


Obliviously Lost/Accidentally Found

by TasteTheRainbow



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2012-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-08 03:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TasteTheRainbow/pseuds/TasteTheRainbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is a people finder, passionate about reuniting broken and separated families, but he's about to uncover one family secret that may be better left buried and forgotten.  <span class="small">Concept inspired by WEtv's <i>The Locator</i>.</span></p><p>Written for the spn_j2_bigbang 2012</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obliviously Lost/Accidentally Found

**Author's Note:**

> My 'thanks' are at the end of the epilogue, but I did want to make one quick note up front. Everything I know about the process of searching for a missing loved one comes from marathoning a "reality" television show. If it is not completely accurate, I apologize

  


Jared still remembers that first day of US History his junior year as though it were yesterday. Mr. Evans opened with a quote from James Baldwin: “ _What passes for identity in America is a series of myths about one's heroic ancestors. It's astounding to me, for example, that so many people really seem to believe that the country was founded by a band of heroes who wanted to be free. That happens not to be true. What happened was that some people left Europe because they couldn't stay there any longer and had to go someplace else to make it. They were hungry, they were poor, they were convicts._ ”

The rest of the school year was spent tracking the history of the country through their own families, no matter how surprising or ugly or fantastic or, at times, boring that retelling turned out to be. The stories didn't matter, according to Mr. Evans, because the truth was more important. They didn't learn about the wars so much as the effects of the war on real people. They saw the effects of economic failures and successes on the people who shaped the people who raised Jared and his classmates.

Some kids found surprises in their lineage, both good and bad, and some found very little of interest at all. What they all discovered was a history so much richer and more layered than the textbook version they'd been learning since elementary school because they were looking at the truth where it had been lying dormant for years, sometimes centuries.

Genealogy was something his aunt was into at the time; it wasn't exactly popular or exciting for sixteen-year-old kids, but it turned into more than a school project for Jared. That eleventh grade US History class kind of changed his life.

Fifteen years later, Jared still thinks genealogy is pretty interesting. If he'd known then that it was going to put food on his table and a roof over his head one day, he might have shown Mr. Evans a little more appreciation for teaching him just how important the truth in history can be. Families get separated and lose track of each other, and Jared has used everything he learned in that class to help them find their ways back to each other. Watching two complete strangers come together, tethered by the common bond of blood or an undiscovered, shared history.

Rewarding as his job may be, meeting in a client's home is always a little touch and go for Jared. On the one hand, it's uncharted territory. If they don't like what he has to say or aren't as sober as they claim to be, well... Jared's seen a couple of situations get out of hand. Having the police on speed dial doesn't stop the anxiety knots from tightening in his gut. It would be so much easier to bring them into the office, where everything is controlled and safe and Jared can easily locate all of the exits. 

For some clients, though, coming down to the office is a commitment they're not yet ready to make. In their own living room, finding that father or sister or friend is the same fantasy it's always been. They are more comfortable talking about the nearly impossible in the privacy of their home. Jared doesn't have to like it; he understands it.

His GPS announces his destination outside a row of townhouses a few miles from the heart of downtown. It isn't exactly the kind of place he would expect to find a financial analyst living, with its colorful window treatments and bright red front door. He's only spoken to Danneel Harris once over the phone, when she was very vague with the details, so he has cause to be on guard, but the neighborhood is nice. It's suburban and family-friendly if the little girls on bikes and the boys playing in the yards are anything to go by, so Jared pockets the keys. As he steps onto the porch, a soft, spring breeze whispers over the rainbow flag on the left side of the door, causing it to brush against his cheek.

He's reaching for the bell again when the door swings wide and Jared is greeted with a low, slow whistle of what he thinks is supposed to be appreciation, especially coupled with the way the guy's eyes do a blatant sweep from Jared's face to his feet and back to his chest.

“Hi there,” the guy says without making his way back to Jared's eyeline.

While tempting, returning the gesture would be unprofessional. Jared does notice the way the old jeans hang low on the guy's hips and the way he's angling his hips so casually, he may fall down. Noticing how washing machine-soft his tee shirt looks against his tanned skin, the splash of freckles over his nose and cheeks, and the perfect, just-fucked tousle of his hair is probably not a great idea, either. Still, it's kind of hard not to notice, especially when the guy is noticing back so obviously.

“I'm looking for Danneel,” Jared finally says, clearing his throat and stuffing a hand in his pocket. “Is this the right house?”

The guy gives Jared another sweeping once over and says, almost to himself, “Believe me, you are in the exact right place.”

“Oh, god,” a horrified voice sounds from inside the house. By the time Jared blinks, there's a petite redhead in a pair of tight jeans and a blazer pushing the guy away from the door. “Jared?” He nods and she thrusts a hand forward. “I'm Danneel. I'm sorry about Jensen. He's wholly inappropriate eighty-five percent of the time.”

The guy, Jensen, meets her glare with wide, defensive eyes. “Hey!”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, but I mean, my ego is fragile.”

Even Jared laughs at that, drawing a wink from Jensen while reminding Danneel that he's still standing on the porch. The brevity is nice, something they'll all be needing in the next few minutes, but Jared does have other appointments to make today.

“Come on in,” Danneel finally invites, stumbling over the small table when she steps back to let Jared into the house. She blushes crimson when Jared grips her elbow to hold her steady. “Sorry,” she apologizes, smoothing a hand through her hair. “I'm a little nervous.” She cuts her eyes to Jensen and then back. “Can he be here for moral support?”

Jared lowers to the armchair she offers while Danneel takes a place on the couch. Adopting a soothing tone, Jared says, “This is all about you, Danneel. Whatever you need.”

“Jesus,” Jensen interjects with a sigh. He flops onto the couch and throws an arm around the back of Danneel's seat. “She's not a delicate flower. Possibly delusional or insane, but not delicate.”

Danneel jams an elbow into Jensen's side and narrows her eyes at him. “I think I changed my mind. You can go.”

Jared ignores the charge that races through his chest when Jensen gives him another lewd look. “Oh, my ass is not going any-fucking-where.” He licks his lower lip in a way that is probably not supposed to be so hot or distracting.

Thankfully, Danneel saves Jared from forgetting that he's working and cannot react to Jensen's flirtation by smacking Jensen's thigh. “Stop leering, creeper.”

Jensen swats at Danneel's ponytail, sending the spray of her auburn hair fanning over her shoulder. She slaps him back like someone who is used to this interaction on a daily basis. She's so relaxed, so playful with her best friend. Bringing the conversation back to business almost feels like a dick move, but Jared is here to do a job, not hang out with potential new friends.

“So,” Jared interrupts, clearing his throat and leaning forward a little bit, “why don't you tell me why I'm here.”

After another fond, lingering smile at Jensen, Danneel turns her attention back to Jared and sobers. She awkwardly tightens her ponytail and licks her lips before she says, “I think I have a brother.”

“You think?” Jared asks.

She nods, the blush blooming in her chest and neck again. “Yeah. I'd like to know for sure.”

It's far from the strangest request Jared has ever received. In fact, a lot of people would find most of the stories he hears rather unbelievable, the best and worst of the human condition, like fathers who have disappeared into the night to start completely new families and spouses who have taken their children and run without so much as a hint of where they're headed. Sometimes it takes a minute or two to wrap his head around the information he's processing before he can start raking through the puzzle pieces, let alone putting them together.

“Why don't you walk me through it from the beginning,” he suggests, clasping his fingers together in front of him.

“Exposition. Awesome.” Jensen sighs melodramatically and then finches when Danneel glares at him. He stands and wipes his hands over his thigh. “Can I get anyone a beer?”

Jensen should be irritating, Jared thinks. Without knowing them, he sees the bond between them and Jensen's short attention span and irreverent hand waving of Danneel's pain should piss Jared off completely. It certainly shouldn't have him checking Jensen's ass out as he stands.

“I'll take a tea,” Danneel tells him, leaning into his hand on her shoulder as he passes. When he's gone, she returns her attention to Jared. “So, my parents split up right before I turned two. I guess there were some issues, but she doesn't really talk about him. We left town and I never saw him again.” She shrugs her shoulders a little before she says, “I was too little to remember anything, but I swear I remember having a brother.”

In his own office, where Jared feels more at ease, he would probably think of the exact right thing to say in this moment. He knows how to break any case down, dissect it and begin forming a plan before the client ever leaves the building, how to lean on what he's learned over the years. There's a confidence that comes from being on his own turf that he just isn't feeling right now. 

“Are you close to your mother?”

Danneel's laugh is sardonic, at best. “We used to talk,” is her response. “When I was younger, I would ask her about him sometimes, but she always just said that I had an imaginary friend, so I was probably just thinking about him or something.”

Oh boy. “Is that a possibility?” Jared asks, sincerely hoping that the answer is 'no.'

A ghost of a grimace crosses Danneel's face. She exhales slowly and nods a little. “I guess. For years, I thought I made it all up, ya know? But then I found this.” She takes a worn photograph from the side table and hands it across the coffee table to Jared. “When I moved out of her house after college, I took a couple boxes of nostalgic stuff, ya know? That was stuck to the bottom of one of them.”

The date stamp in the bottom corner says that the picture was taken in 1980. The brown and orange plaid couch supports that, along with the tight, red shorts the little boy in the picture is wearing. He looks to be about four, maybe five, and he's holding a small girl in a polka-dotted sun suit, her orange hair a halo of curls around her head. They're both grinning brightly.

When he hands it back to Danneel, she greedily accepts it as though it's some kind of lifeline. He supposes, in some ways, it is. “Have you asked any other family members about him?”

Her eyes glass over a little, but she blinks and turns her attention to the picture in her hands when she answers his question. “I don't really have any other family that I know.” Clearing the lump of emotion in her throat, she adds, “We moved around a lot for a while. My mom didn't talk about anyone else. When I would ask, she'd just say that we all have to make our own way in the world.”

While sad, it's not exactly uncommon information, either. “Have you ever tried looking for your father?” When Danneel shakes her head, wipes her nose with the back of her hand, Jared feels his brow furrowing. “Are you prepared for the possibility that you might come into contact with him if you find your brother?”

If he's learned anything, it's that reuniting someone with a lost loved one always casts a wide net over other family members. Nieces and nephews, brothers and sisters, cousins. It's never solely about the searcher and the searchee. 

“I used to be afraid of him. My mom would tell me all these stories about what an abusive asshole he could be, but I don't know. I mean, maybe he was or is, but my mom's not always the most trustworthy source, ya know? So I don't know. I've thought about what meeting him might mean, but it's worth the risk.” Danneel's eyes are wide, sincere, when she finally looks up from the picture. “I have to know that I'm not crazy, Jared.”

The ache in her voice shoots straight to Jared's heart, but he doesn't have time to assure her that he's going to do everything in his power to help her before Jensen returns from the kitchen. He hands her a steaming mug with a soft smile and then sits. “You'll always be crazy, baby,” he teases, resting his beer bottle on one thigh while he brushes his free hand over Danneel's hair.

“Shut up, asshole,” Danneel laughs, ducking out of Jensen's reach.

There's an unfamiliar pang in Jared's chest, a desire to stick around and watch his client with that smile on her face for a second longer. The next few months are going to put an emotional strain on her, one that she may think she's ready for, but that she can't possibly yet understand. She's been wondering about this for years, but there's an added anxiety to knowing that someone is actively searching for answers.

“Were you born here?” Jared asks, reminding himself that he came here to find information that will help him in his search.

Danneel clears her throat and sips from her tea. “Um, yeah. Well, sort of. I mean, I was born here, but we lived up in Round Rock. After the divorce, we moved around a lot, like I said, but we were never more than thirty or forty miles outside Austin.” She takes another drink and tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “As far as I know, my father never left the area, but I couldn't say that for sure.

“If you can get me last known addresses, even from that house in Round Rock, I'd appreciate it. Anything, no matter how small it may seem, can help.”

Nodding, Danneel reaches for a piece of floral stationary on the table at her side. “One step ahead of ya,” she says with a soft smile, offering him as comprehensive a list as she was able to aggregate.

“Alright,” Jared finally forces himself to say after Danneel has walked him through every name on the list and what she remembers of these relatives. Jared stands and smooths his hands over his thighs. “I'm going to get started on this as soon as I get back to the office.” Danneel stands with him, nodding. “I will keep you posted every step of the way, but please understand that it might take some time. Most of what I do involves waiting for a lot of leads to come through.”

Danneel sets her tea on the side table and follows Jared toward the door. “I understand,” she says, her voice so low and vulnerable that Jared is overwhelmed with the urge to wrap her up in a tight hug. He manages to hold back by stuffing his hands into his pockets.

While he can't, won't, promise that this is going to turn out the way she wants it to, he can absolutely offer her something. “We are going to find you some answers, Danneel,” he says with all of the sincerity he's feeling. It's shaky, but he's been here before. He can deliver.

“Thank you, Jared,” she says, lunging forward to give him a tentative hug. 

On the porch, Jared takes a moment to breathe, his brain already twisting around the information Danneel has given him. It certainly won't be easy, but she's given him more to go on than some people do. He reminds himself of something that his mother likes to say: “ _If finding lost people was as easy as finding lost keys, you wouldn't have a job, son._ ”

He's stepping off of the porch when the front door opens behind him. “Hey, Jared,” he hears Jensen call. When he turns, Jensen steps onto the porch and pulls the door closed behind him.

“What can I do for ya?” he asks, and then immediately regrets it when Jensen smirks in response. Well, he should immediately regret it. He absolutely should not feel that thrill shooting down his spine. 

Instead of saying something smarmy or cheesy, Jensen sobers and tucks one hand in his pocket while he runs the other over his hair. “Can you really do this? Help Danneel?”

Jared sighs. It's easy to lie, to say that everything is going to be fine, to soothe the frayed nerves of someone desperate for a salve, but lying doesn't get Jared anywhere. In his experience, people usually see through the lie anyway. They don't want to be comforted so much as affirmed. 

“There are no guarantees,” he tells Jensen. “I'm going to do everything I can, though.”

“Alright, just-,” Jensen stops and releases a heavy breath, “If you find him, can you just make sure that he's okay before you spring it on her?”

The hardest part of Jared's job is dealing with guys like Jensen. He's not an actual client, but he loves the client deeply. While Danneel is clinging to the slightest hope of the best case scenario, Jensen is fearing the prospect of the worst case. Tenacious as hope may be, protective doubt screams much louder.

“Jensen, my job is to find him,” Jared reminds him, hoping that he sounds as regretful as he feels about that. “It has to be her choice from there.” The devil-may-care flirt who was sizing him up earlier is now gone, replaced by a friend focused in his concern. “You really care about her, don't you?”

Jensen blinks, thrown by the question. “She's family.”

The answer gives Jared pause but he doesn't press. “I'm going to find her answers. That's my job. Yours is to be there after, to help her decide what to do with them after I find them.” 

Jensen gives another nod, blinks again, and the easy smile is back. He gives Jared another once-over and then nods again, more firmly this time. “Do you wanna grab some dinner tonight?”

“With you?” Jared asks, feeling like the confusion ball was passed to him while he wasn't looking.

“No, I'm just really concerned about your nutrition,” Jensen answers with a roll of his eyes. “Yes, with me.”

Fortunately for Jared, this is the easiest question asked all day. “I don't date my clients.”

“I'm not your client.”

“But you’re family,” Jared reminds him.

He doesn't wait around to hear Jensen's rebuttal for that – Jensen will undoubtedly have a smooth, tempting argument, one that Jared isn't sure he can resist much more – before turning on his heel and heading toward his car. It's flattering, that kind of attention from a guy who looks like Jensen, but Jared has policies for a reason. Heightened, raw emotions are the collateral damage of his business; dating someone who is already tangled up in that fall-out is never going to be a good idea.

Still, it _is_ flattering.

  


For five years, Jared ran his business from the living room of his one-bedroom apartment. It was cozy, once he started hiring his friends, to have everyone crammed in together, helping each other with the cases they had trouble cracking and providing some levity when some of the situations got really heavy. So when they finally outgrew the space, when they needed a place to meet with clients and they were taking turns making phone calls in Jared's bathroom for privacy, it became clear that they needed to be a little more professional and grown-up about this operation.

Maintaining the intimacy of the living room was important to all of them, so they found a place that embraced that but also catered to their privacy needs. Misha, Aldis, and Katie all work at a giant conference table in the center of the space. To the left, there are two meeting rooms, outfitted with couches, chairs, and coffee pots. Jared's office is to the right. Getting used to being the boss, to having his own, separate space is still strange sometimes; he'd rather be at the table with the rest of his crew. 

The real draw to the office was the east-facing window wall, overlooking a beautifully manicured lawn with benches and a marble fountain. In the morning, when the sun is rising over the dewy grass, this life seems like some kind of surreal dream. 

He's whistling an errant tune when he walks through the front door, greeted by the smiling face of his perky personal assistant, Genevieve. Jared takes the mail she's offering, flips through a couple of envelopes before he raises his eyebrow to her wide, knowing grin. “What?”

She just raises her fingers to her lips and mimics buttoning them like a small child. “Nothing,” she sing-songs. “How'd your meeting go?”

“Good,” Jared answers, tossing a few pieces of the mail into other boxes on the corner of the desk – sometimes he loves delegation – before he elaborates. “It's gonna be a tough one, though.” He turns, addressing Aldis and Katie, who are hunched over opposite ends of the conference table. “Anybody available to help me with some leg work?”

Aldis' head pops up first. “I got ya, Chief. Whatcha need?”

Katie tosses her pen at Aldis, a playful glower on her face. “Suck up.” When she turns to Jared, the scowl fades. “I've got some time, too, if you need another brain.”

There are public records and print-outs spread over most of the table, client cases in various stages of research. It's a wonder they ever manage to keep any of their cases straight with this crack system they have going. It's worked for nearly a decade, and changing it seems silly, though he does often think about hiring an office manager to help whip them into some kind of organizational shape.

“I think we might be chasing a ghost on this one,” he says, sinking into one of the chairs between them. “Our client, Danneel Harris, isn't even sure her brother exists.” Katie's eyebrow shoots into her hairline and Aldis just shakes his head, but they're both taking notes as Jared fills them in on the specifics of Danneel's case. “There are no family contacts,” he finally concludes.

Aldis whistles, long and low. “Who tells their kid that her brother was her imaginary friend?”

“Unless he was,” Katie points out.

Jared taps the table as he stands, mentally slotting his agenda for the day into place. “Katie, I'd like you to start looking into her mom,” he says, handing Katie the paper that Danneel gave him, with her mother's name, birth date, and last known phone number scribbled on it. “Aldis, I want you to find me some info on Jensen Ackles.”

“Who's that?” Genevieve asks, making no move to hide how blatantly she's eavesdropping on the conversation.

If Jared minded her listening in, he would move the work station to an office out of her earshot. Sometimes Genevieve has really great ideas, so her eavesdropping stopped bothering him a couple of years ago. “Danneel's roommate,” he explains to her and then returns his attention to Alids. “It's just a wild hunch, but he's really protective of her.”

“Like a brother?” Aldis asks, immediately on the same page like he has been since they roomed together in college. Off of Jared's nod, Aldis chuckles. “What, is this some kind of Lifetime movie or some shit?”

Rolling his eyes, Jared says, “Just rule him out for me, okay?”

Aldis is probably right; Jensen is probably not Danneel's brother. But, they wouldn't be doing their job if they didn't follow every possibility, no matter how small or unlikely. Jared’s gut isn't a sure thing, but it's always worth listening to the hunches.

He's just beginning to check his voicemail when Genevieve chirps through the intercom. “Misha's on line one for you, Boss.”

“Thanks, Gen.” He reaches for the phone and punches the corresponding line number. “Hey, Mish.”

“I need an assist out here.” Misha's never been one for extended chit-chat.

“What's the problem?” Jared asks, his heart sinking. He has a stack of cases to go through, to decide whether or not they're even going to take the clients on in the first place, and no time to be running into obstacles.

Misha hesitates. “You have time to help me out?” he asks.

Jared is already standing when he says, “I'm on my way,” and then disconnects the call. He grabs his keys from the edge of the desk and takes his jacket off the back of his chair. He stops behind Katie's chair and rests his hands on her shoulders. “Call me if you need anything?”

She drops her head back and blinks up through the thick fringe of her bangs. “Sure thing, Jay,” she says, her fingers still resting on the keyboard where she's entering Danneel's information into a new case file.

Genevieve is on the phone when he passes the desk, but she holds a finger up for him to wait. Fortunately, this job has taught him a little patience. 

She sets the phone back onto the cradle and says, “You have another client meeting at six tonight,” she says, scribbling something onto a post-it. 

Jared stares at the paper she's offering him. “Can you text me that info?” he asks. There is no way he's not going to lose that tiny note while his mind is already focusing on the situation he's about to enter with Misha.

  


Misha's client is a sixty-year-old recovering alcoholic who lost his wife and kids to his addiction more than thirty years ago. Now that he's getting his life back together, he wants to try to find his daughter and rekindle some kind of relationship with her. By the time Jared arrives in front of the small, decrepit house, he's narrowed the reasons Misha could have called him down to a couple of discouraging possibilities.

Misha steps off of the porch, striding down the walk with his hands in his pockets. Jared greets him with a handshake and asks, “Is it a death?”

Thankfully, Misha shakes his head. “I showed up to tell him that we found her, that she's open to reconciliation, and he's drunk off his ass.”

With a heavy sigh, Jared runs a hand through his hair. That was the other problem he feared. “Alright, fine,” he concedes, leading the way to the front door.

The smell nearly bowls Jared over when the client opens the door. His eyes are red-rimmed, dark hair sweaty and matted to his forehead. “Jason!” he exclaims.

“It's Jared.” Jared takes another deep breath and steps into the house, comforted by Misha's presence at his back. “What happened, Hank? I thought we had an agreement.”

Reunions are hard enough – piecing together past and present lives, melding them into a healthy future – without adding outside substances as an extra complication. Sometimes, it's the reason they've lost contact in the first place, so Jared refuses to help them put the pieces back together if they're not willing to do their part. 

“I'm clean!” Hank insists, following Jared's gaze down to the bottle in his hand, clenched in a death grip. “This is recreational, I swear. Just a little time-out, ya know?” He chuckles for effect, but it just sounds sad.

Watching Hank flop onto the corner of the chair, barely able to keep himself from tumbling onto the floor, chips at the edges of Jared's anger. “What do you need a time-out from?” he asks, relaxing his shoulders as he tucks his hands into his pockets and leans in the doorway.

“Life,” Hank answers, lifting the bottle and lowering it without taking another drink. “I abandoned my little girl.”

Though it's wearing thin, Jared finds his patience as he lowers himself to the floor beside Hank's chair. When Hank looks into his eyes, he says, “We talked about this, remember? Your mistakes are in the past. You can move beyond that.”

This time, Hank doesn't lower his bottle. Instead, he takes a long, sad swallow. “It's a big mistake. You don't just walk away from something like that.”

He's not wrong, but life isn't always neat and tidy. Sometimes things get ugly and people make stupid choices, and what seemed to be going well a minute ago starts veering off the path before anyone realizes it was drifting in the first place. Sometimes Jared's compassion wells up for a guy like Hank, inexplicably and unexpectedly. 

“She wants to forgive you, Hank,” Jared says.

Hank snorts and takes another drink. “Right.”

“Misha found your daughter.” 

Jared hears Misha's voice catch in his throat, but he doesn't bother turning to look over his shoulder. Hank's eyes are darting back and forth as he tries to sit up a little straighter. If Jared shoots Misha any kind of look, Hank is going to catch it.

“You found her?”

Misha sort of gawks a little before he composes his words into a rough, “I did, but-,”

“But we had a deal,” Jared interrupts. “We're only going to put you in contact with her if you clean up.” It's a classic manipulation technique, but Jared means every word of it this time. “You know she deserves a dad who's clear-headed and sober.” 

Hank sets the bottle on the floor, ignoring it when it teeters against the carpet in favor of smoothing his hands through his hair. “I can be better,” he insists.

He wants to be, that much is obvious. Whether he can or not remains to be seen, but Jared has faith that Hank will give it his best shot. 

Jared makes a few phone calls, finds an empty bed in a nearby rehab facility, and then fills Hank in on the plan from here: Misha will take him to rehab and, when Hank feels like he's back on solid ground, they'll try for another reunion. Sometimes, the steps are really small, but Jared has to hope that they'll lead to something greater eventually.

While Hank packs for his trip, Jared heads onto the porch to find Misha staring out at the yard with an angry set to his jaw. 

Before Jared can defend his actions, Misha says, “What the hell was that? Since when do we tell an inebriated client that we found who they're looking for?”

“He's our client,” Jared reminds Misha, though it's nothing more than a half-assed attempt to justify his actions. Misha, in all honesty, has every right to be angry. He didn't break a policy in there, but he did bend one far enough to raise an eyebrow. 

“And what about his daughter?” Misha asks pointedly. “Now I have to call her back and tell her the deal's off because her dad, who I told her was clean, isn't actually clean? Oh, but maybe he will be and then we'll call her back and let her know that it's all good now?”

“For now,” Jared answers with a shrug. When Misha opens his mouth to argue back, Jared rests a hand on his shoulder. “You can tell her what's going on. If she wants to visit him, we can't stop her. Look, I know it sucks but it's part of the job. We can only do what we're contracted to do, even if it doesn't seem like enough sometimes.”

After another moment, Misha hangs his head and lets out a deep breath. “It just sucks. We're supposed to be helping people,” he finally admits.

“We are helping people,” Jared assures him, though it's probably not all that convincing. While he does feel like he's doing his part to help Hank, their client, Misha's right that it's not doing much for Hank's daughter.

Misha confirms it when he says, “Yeah, well Hank already destroyed his daughter's life once. I feel like we did it a second time today.”

  


Instead of heading back to the office, Jared spends the afternoon making phone calls in the park, checking up on leads and making notes on a legal pad that he sometimes keeps in the back seat. Regardless of how confident he tried to be with Misha earlier, he doesn't actually like bending his own rules. Sure, it's one of the perks of being the boss, but he put those policies in place to protect his team and the emotional stability of the people they're helping through these high-pressure situations. Following those rules as strictly as he requires his staff to is important to Jared, too.

He's still thinking about why he handled the Hank situation the way he did when he gets to the Moonshine at six o'clock. What motivated him to say what he did, to tell Hank that his daughter wanted to meet him, when he already knew that he wasn't going to let that happen? Why even dangle that carrot when he was just going to tear it away? What was he thinking?

The only thing he can figure is that he wasn't as focused as he should have been. Maybe he's starting to spread himself too thin. He's always prided himself on being able to multitask, but maybe he's slipping or something. The only thing he does know for sure is that he needs to get his head back into the game and devote his full attention to the potential client he's about to meet with here.

He steps over the threshold, past the hostess stand, and scans the room for anyone who looks like they might be anxious. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and double-checks the information Genevieve put in his calendar back at the office. She's added a name to the entry, one that makes Jared's stomach flip and his heart sink. 

When he looks up again, he immediately sees Jensen smiling at him from a table near the bar. He offers a slight wave as Jared sinks into his chair and sets his phone next to his plate.

Jensen looks good, that much Jared can admit. His threadbare jeans have been changed in favor of a darker pair, his tee shirt for a black button down. He looks pretty damn irresistible, frankly, and Jared can't help thinking that's not a coincidence. It would be downright distracting if Jared wasn't so annoyed that Jensen was so judgmental about Danneel's search earlier today. If he has an investigation of his own, Jared thinks Jensen is a big, fat hypocrite. 

“Ya know, you could have just told me who you were looking for this afternoon,” he says.

Jensen only shrugs nonchalantly as he looks over the menu. “Yeah, but I'm not looking for anyone.” He reaches for his water and, when he meets Jared's eye over the glass, he grins bright and mischievous. “I just wanted to buy you dinner.”

It catches Jared off guard just enough for him to bark a laugh before he can stop himself. “You are relentless.”

“And intuitive,” Jensen concurs with a nod and a wink. “See, after you left, I noticed that you said you _couldn't_ have dinner with me, not that you didn't want to.”

Jared sighs and runs a hand over his face. This is such a bad idea. “I believe I said I don't date clients.”

“And you didn't say that you don't date men, either,” Jensen goes on, setting his water glass back onto the table and folding his hands in front of him.

Jensen is a ridiculously good-looking guy, but that's not going to be enough to change Jared's mind. It's important that Jensen understands that. Mimicking Jensen's posture, Jared leans forward and says, “That was not supposed to be a signal.”

“I'm not begging,” Jensen points out, sly smile starting to spread over his lips. “You're free to go at any time.”

As if on cue, a waiter stops beside the table, two huge plates heaped high with the bar's steak fries and burgers, dressed to the nines with all of Jared's favorite fixings. It's probably not a coincidence. In fact, if Jared didn't know better, he's say Jensen's either been stalking him or he's had some help in planning tonight.

It's a little strange, maybe a little forward, but Jensen's smile is so proud right now and it looks really fucking good. The food smells amazing. Jensen isn't technically his client and, even if he was, this is just dinner. So what if they're attracted to each other? This isn't a date. 

“Dinner. That's it,” Jared reiterates, just so that his own brain and Jensen's are on the same page here.

Two hours later, they're circling the downtown bar scene, having discussed everything from Jensen's current job – bartending – to Jared's favorite band – The Black Keys – and it's starting to get dark. Jared would have gone home as soon as dinner was over – he should have gone home then – but Jensen is a really great conversationalist. And he looks really good in those jeans.

“So, why people finding?” Jensen asks as they pass a group smoking outside of the indie movie theater.

Could have's and should have's don't seem to matter right now as Jared smiles in spite of himself. “That's kind of a long answer.”

“I've got nothin' but time, man,” Jensen says, holding his arms out as some sort of offering.

Jared raises an eyebrow. “I thought you hated exposition.”

“Oh, yeah.” Jensen catches his bottom lip between his teeth for a second. “I do, but I also really wanna get laid and you don't strike me as the kind of guy who's gonna do that without getting to know each other better.” He uses air quotes and exaggerated rolling eyes, but he's still watching Jared like he has been all night, like he can't wait to hear what Jared says next.

“I had this friend in junior high,” he starts to explain, tucking his hands into his pockets as they walk. “He moved away during our sophomore year of high school and I just never heard from him again.”

It wasn't that uncommon when Jared was in school, losing touch with a friend. There were no cell phones and most people didn't have the internet in their houses yet. Writing letters and talking long-distance on mom and dad's land line made things a bit more challenging in those days. “Once MySpace and Facebook came along, when I was in college, I tried to look him up again, but still came up empty. We started digging, me and my mom, the old-fashioned way.”

“Didya find him?” Jensen asks.

The last thing Jared wants to talk about right now is Chad Murray. Clearing his throat, he tucks his hands into his pockets and skips to a different part of the story instead. “Junior year, my history teacher made us trace our family tree back as far as we could. It was fascinating to me, constructing the past like that. The common metaphor is puzzle pieces. You find them and put them together as you go, creating this amazing picture full of secrets and surprises that you can't possibly be expecting. It's fun.”

Skeptically, Jensen asks, “That's fun for you?”

“Yeah,” Jared admits. “I mean, if I'm going to earn money doing something for the rest of my life, it might as well be something I like, right?”

“What about when you're not working? What's fun then?”

It's not a simple question, Jared can tell by Jensen's tone. He's asking if Jared has free time, what he does with it, and what he'd like to do with it after tonight. He's angling for date two, but that would make this date one and Jared doesn't date almost-clients. He shouldn't date almost-clients.

“I do things,” he finally answers with a shrug.

“Things?” Jensen nudges him with a shoulder as they pass a bar with male dancers in the window. Their white hot pants draw both Jared and Jensen's attention before Jensen says, “ _Things_ is neither encouraging nor convincing, my friend.”

“Maybe I wasn’t trying to encourage or convince you.”

Jensen's not teasing when he says, “You don't really have to try.”

Tucking his hands into his pockets – if he doesn't, Jared is going to yank Jensen into that alley and do things that would be considered 'date activities' – he leads the way around the next corner, heading back toward the Moonshine. They've managed to put quite a few blocks between them at this point, so Jared asks, “What about your family?” to pass the time.

Jensen laughs. “How bored are you gonna be if I tell you that we're just regular people, a normal family, who has zero hidden surprises?”

In Jared's experience, “There is no such thing as zero surprises.”

“You think?”

He presses a little closer to Jensen's side when they navigate a particularly dense group of people at the end of the next block. “Every family has 'em. They're not always bad, but there's always something you didn't know or haven't heard. Something everyone has forgotten over time that someone thought to document. I'm tellin' you, it's fascinating.”

In the shining neon lights flooding both sides of the street, a pink flush bleeds up the side of Jensen's neck, rushing toward his ears and cheeks. “This was not supposed to turn into me bashing your job and you defending it,” he says apologetically.

“You scheduled an appointment with my assistant,” Jared reminds him softly. “It's all about my job, right?”

They both know this hasn't been about Jared's job in more than two hours. 

When Jensen doesn't admit that, Jared says, “You don't think I can find the answers Danneel needs, do you?”

They're in dangerous territory here, but maybe that's for the best. Maybe this is the way he shows Jensen that they can't do this, that they're both too close to opposing sides of the issue, that this night has to be a fluke.

“It's not that I don't think you can. It's that I'm not sure you should.” Stopping, he rests a warm hand on Jared's forearm. It bleeds through Jared's shirt and settles in his skin, comfortable in a way it absolutely shouldn't be. “There're so many fucking variables, Jared. What if he's not what she's expecting? What if she's not what he's expecting? What if he brings a ton of his own shit with him and Danneel gets swept up in some douchbag's mess? There are all these fucking question marks that are going to change everything for her.” He shakes his head as he lets go of Jared's arm and starts walking again. “I’m just not sure she’s thought through the reality of it yet.”

“You’ve thought about it a lot, though,” Jared observes as they wait for the light to change on the opposite corner of the street.

This Jensen, the serious one who cares so much for his friend, is almost as attractive as the carefree flirt he met earlier today. It doesn't stop the professional gut feeling that Jared has, the one that says Jensen may be a little too dedicated to Danneel, but it's still nice to see.

When they've crossed the street with about thirty other people, Jensen steps closer to Jared until their shoulders are touching and says, “I've known her for ten years. She's been talking about this family shit just as long. I've had a lot of time to think about it.”

Instead of asking if Jensen is Danneel's brother, which is what he really wants to do right now, Jared settles for, “Do you know who he is?”

“If I did, you wouldn't have come to our house this morning and I would not be standing here with you right now,” Jensen answers so easily, it almost seems rehearsed.

“But you've made it pretty clear that you don't think she should know him,” Jared says, piecing things together like the detective he sometimes pretends he is.

“I don't, but you're crazy if you think I could've carried that secret around for all this time. Are you kidding me?” He laughs as he digs his hands deep into the pockets of the hooded sweatshirt he brought in case things turned colder, which does nothing to contradict Jared's assumption that Jensen had far more than dinner planned for tonight. “There's no way I could keep something like that from someone I love for that long. A couple months maybe, but not a fucking decade.”

It's a relief when Jared realizes that he wants to believe Jensen. He'll let Aldis finish the background check for his own peace of mind, but he's ninety-nine percent sure that Jensen is not Danneel's older brother. 

“For the record, this is why I don't date clients,” Jared says, enjoying the whisper of his sleeve against Jensen's as they walk. “This isn't really dinner conversation, ya know?”

“It's a big part of who you are, though.”

That response alone is a lot more understanding than the majority of Jared's previous boyfriends. He's not thinking of Jensen as a boyfriend, of course, but it's nice to feel like someone gets him once in awhile. More than nice, really. Jared likes the feeling.

So he clears his throat and says, “I really should get home.” Because he doesn't want the night to end, because he can easily forget that Jensen has any connection to Danneel's case, because he likes spending time with Jensen, Jared has to call it a night.

With a nod, Jensen says, “Right,” as though he's going to let Jared off that easy. And then he points toward the window of the small shop they're standing in front of now. “Except you haven't had ice cream yet.”

Jared shakes his head. He needs to get home and get some sleep. He needs to figure out what he's going to do about getting the office more organized. He needs to figure out which of his employees helped Jensen with this covert operation and fire them. 

“One scoop,” is what comes out when he speaks.

Laughing, Jensen threads their fingers together and starts for the door. “You are really very easy. I think it's my favorite thing about you so far.”

  


If someone had told Jared when he was fifteen or sixteen that he would be the guy who gets up at five every morning, works out before he heads to the office to run a business that he owns, follows a structured agenda for the day in order to help as many people as he possibly can before he heads home, and drinks a glass of wine while reading until he's tired enough to drop into bed at ten, he would have laughed. He figures most guys would have laughed at this life back then. It's not so bad, though.

Most mornings, it's not so bad. This morning, it's not awesome. This is why he goes to bed early, because getting home after midnight and lying awake for another two hours before falling into a fitful sleep and then getting up to work out takes a lot out of him. By the time he gets to the office, he's exhausted and a little irritated but he's still smiling in spite of it. It's hard to be too upset when the sun is glinting off of the small pond beside the parking lot and the birds are singing all around him.

Jesus, a really good time with a really hot guy turned him into a fucking Disney character. Sure, it was a one-time thing, but it was fun while it lasted. Turns out, fun is maybe in short supply in Jared's life.

Aldis pulls in right behind Jared, giving a short wave when he steps out of his car, coffee cup in one hand and a bagel in the other. “Mornin', JP.”

“Morning.”

Stopping short, Aldis tilts his head to consider Jared critically. “What's up with the happy face?”

Shit. Aldis has been Jared's best friend, his right hand, for years. Of course he's going to assess Jared's mood from the look on his face. Knowing Aldis, he's going to have something to say about it, too. Jared's not ready to hear the opinion, to have his irritatingly good mood analyzed yet. So he just smirks and holds the front door open for Aldis to enter first.

Thankfully, Genevieve steps out of the break room to interrupt the moment, devilish grin on her face as she sips from her oversized 'World's Best Assistant' mug. “How was your meeting last night?” she asks Jared.

Remembering the same knowing grin she shot his way yesterday, Jared shakes his head. He should have known. “You are not smooth,” he accuses, flipping through the items in his mailbox while she settles into her seat.

“I didn't want you to say no,” she justifies. “He's a friend. Sort of.” Off of Jared's raised eyebrow, she shrinks back. “Well, it's not like we hang out and text each other or anything, but he's my favorite bartender. And his roommate is hot. But none of that seemed important to mention when he called to book dinner.”

On another day, when Jared isn't feeling so good or when Genevieve isn't looking so adorably satisfied with herself, he might be able to stay mad at her. Probably not. “Whatever,” he says. “Yes, I had a good time with Jensen.” She opens her mouth, but Jared holds a hand out to stop her. “No, I'm not going to tell you the details.” He turns immediately toward the table, looking at the three figures just beginning to fire up their computers and start the day. “Yes, I would love to hear where we are with our open cases. Anyone?”

Misha checks his watch before he says, “Katie and I are heading out to meet with a potential client in twenty minutes.”

Sometimes Jared forgets that he's the boss. They've been together so long, all of them just as competent to do this job as he is, so they handle their own schedules and their own clients. They require very little care and feeding and make Jared's life much, much easier. He can't imagine working with someone who requires micromanagement.

Aldis points to a couple of folders, open at his side of the table. “I've got a couple of phone calls in on the Harris case. There's paperwork to be filed with a couple of older cases, so I'm going to work on that before I head out to facilitate a reunion this afternoon.”

Jared leans against the table and glances at Danneel's folder. “Alright, thanks.”

Without looking up, Aldis holds a print-out for Jared's perusal. “Far as I can tell, Ackles is legit. No relation to Harris that I can see from a preliminary search.”

Jared snatches the paper and checks it over without bothering to study it all that hard. Relief settles low in his belly and spreads until Jared is grinning and tossing the paper back into the pile. “It was a long shot to begin with,” he says, ignoring the happy tilt of his own voice.

“Background checking the guy you're dating is creepy, just so you know,” Genevieve chimes from her desk.

“Did I ask you?” When she sticks her tongue out at Jared, he smiles. “I'm not dating him. We had one dinner.”

Genevieve counters with a knowing look of her own. “And took a long walk. And had ice cream.”

Jared blinks. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Twitter,” she answers, wiggling her phone as though this should be obvious. Glancing down, she reads, “Best date in years. Dinner, walk, ice cream, GREAT ass.” She looks up long enough to say, “That's in caps, by the way, the 'great.'” She giggles when Jared rolls his eyes. “Coffee in the morning, it also says.”

“We didn't have coffee this morning.”

“I think you're about to,” Aldis interrupts, nodding toward the parking lot where Jensen is climbing out of his car with two paper coffee cups in his hands, his eyes hidden by a pair of dark aviators that are really just way too hot for words.

“Get to work,” Jared orders, pointing from Aldis to Genevieve and then back again. Katie and Misha are already huddled together, ignoring everything but each other.

When the front door opens, Jared's stomach gives an excited lurch, like a dog pulling at his lead in pursuit of a passing squirrel. The smile that spreads over his face defies his insistence that last night was just dinner. “Hey,” he says, striding across the office to position himself between Genevieve and Jensen. The last thing he needs is those two conspiring any further.

Jensen echoes the smile with a blinding one of his own. “I hope this is okay,” he says, pulling his glasses off to tuck them into his tee shirt. 

Unlike the majority of humanity, Jared doesn't carry his coffee to work with him. He usually drinks one cup at home in the morning and then puts it aside for the rest of the day. It makes him too jittery. But he can't exactly tell Jensen all of that without seeming like a giant asshole, so he accepts the offering for what it is. The coffee, with a balanced ratio of cream to sugar, is perfect. 

“It's great. Thank you.” He swallows another long drink before nodding toward the front door. “Do you wanna take a walk?”

“Look,” Jensen starts as soon as they're out of earshot of Jared's staff, “I know this is forward or whatever, but I don't do so well with beating around the bush.” He follows Jared to a small bench at the edge of the yard. “I like you, Jared. I wanna see you again, preferably a lot. Pretending that I don't seems like a stupid waste of time.”

Relentless, just like Jared told him last night. He's so damn non-threatening about it, though. Looking at Jensen here, in the morning sunshine with his perfect hair and his sleep-puffy eyes and his rumpled t-shirt, Jared can admit to himself that he'd like to see a lot more of Jensen, too. If only the circumstances weren't so extenuating. 

“The timing really sucks. I mean, in any other situation, I wouldn't even hesitate, but this is just … It feels like bad timing.” 

Jensen takes another drink of his coffee and licks it from his lips, which is just really very distracting. “Alright, but consider this, okay?” He hesitates before resting his hand on Jared's knee, like he's afraid he's going to be rejected. “We can't change our circumstances. We met how we met when we met. Seems like a stupid excuse for not catching a few movies and some dinners together, if you ask me.”

It's not the best argument Jared's ever heard, but the warmth of Jensen's touch through Jared's thin dress pants reminds him of the way Jensen's hand felt in his last night. Dating always seems like some kind of complicated board game to Jared, one that he didn't learn early enough and still doesn't understand very well. The players change, each one bringing a new set of rules. For a guy who feels like he relates to people pretty well, it's confusing and completely unsatisfying. 

But Jensen. Last night was easy. Jared had fun talking to this guy, felt good every time Jensen smiled or laughed at something he said. Last night, it felt like Jared found the game he was supposed to be playing all along. It's really fucking difficult to walk away from that.

“You always this determined?” he asks, covering Jensen's hand with his own, hiding his smile in another gulp of his coffee.

Shoulders relaxing, Jensen winks. “No, but I got a good feeling about you, kiddo.”

  


“You are a terrible liar.”

Jared turns to Misha in surprise. “What?”

Flipping his folder shut, Misha takes a drink from his frosty beer mug before he says, “You did not come here to work.”

There is a wealth of paperwork spread out between them on the small, round tabletop. There's barely enough room for their drinks. “We're working,” Jared insists.

“No, I'm working,” Misha corrects with a smug smile. “You're ogling the hot bartender.”

“I'm-,” Jared's eyes dart toward the bar, where Jensen is charming a few of the patrons with what appears to be a really funny story, if the ladies' continuous laughter is anything to go by. “Okay, yeah. Sorry,” he admits, looking back to Misha with a wilting smile

Misha just rolls his eyes. “It's okay, ya know? You having a personal life is okay.”

“Thanks for the permission,” Jared fires back sarcastically, tilting his own beer to his lips before he turns his full attention back to Misha. “He's just awfully close to a client, ya know?”

Agreeing to continue seeing Jensen seemed like an okay idea last week. Well, it didn't seem world-ending or anything. Guilt still creeps in at the most inopportune moments, like Jared is sneaking cookies off the cooling rack and hoping his mom doesn't notice.

Misha is the first person to nod in agreement instead of brushing Jared's concerns away, like Alids, Genevieve, and his own sister have when he expresses them. He appreciates that. Until Misha nonchalantly says, “But you work too much to meet anyone outside of work, so what're ya gonna do?”

“I have to work. There's a lot to do,” Jared defends, as though Misha was intending to insult him.

“You have four other people to help you do that work, man. You're allowed to have a life.”

Jared opens his mouth to argue, but the answering voice is a gruff, “Hey,” from behind his shoulder.

“Hi,” Jared answers immediately, smiling up at Jensen like a dope before he can stop himself.

Jensen pulls a chair out from the next table and tosses his bar rag over his shoulder. “You guys mind if I join you for my break?”

Smooth as barbed wire, Misha begins to shuffle papers into folders – Jared hopes they're the appropriate ones – and piles them before slipping them into his messenger bag. “I was just getting ready to leave, but you should definitely stay with Jared.”

He's very clearly referring to more than just Jensen's fifteen-minute break, but he's gone before Jared can call him on it.

Jensen watches until Misha is out the door before he turns to Jared and asks, “Was it something I said?”

“He was just lecturing me about my lack of a personal life,” Jared explains, spreading his thighs a little wider when Jensen's hand rests high on his leg under the table.

“Good man,” Jensen winks, reaching for Jared's beer bottle with his free hand, taking a long swig before he hands it back. “So, I'm glad you stopped in.”

Fuckin' hell, Jensen's smile. “Yeah?”

“It's always nice to have some eye candy,” Jensen teases with a wink.

“Oh, you are all charm, huh?” He means to throw a look back at the women Jensen was just entertaining a minute ago, to make it more of a joke, but looking away when Jensen is holding his gaze is impossible.

Jensen shakes his head and leans in. “Nah. You stick around until my shift ends, I'll show you how much more I am.”

“Big talk,” Jared says with a soft chuckle, the breath passing easily in the limited space between their mouths.

“And I live up to it,” Jensen promises, his fingers drawing teasing patterns against Jared's inseam. “I'm tellin' ya, stick with me. I'll show you things, Jared.”

The voice in the back of Jared's brain, the one screaming that this is dangerous territory and Jared should walk away before he can't, is finally drowned out by the heat of Jensen's lips against his own, a slow and lazy promise of something Jared hasn't allowed himself to want from this guy, from anyone, for a really long time.

  


It's been awhile since Jared found himself curled up on the couch on a weeknight, all thoughts of work banished to some remote corner of his brain while he watches some ridiculous reality show and just relaxes. Having Jensen cradled between his thighs, head resting against his neck, is kind of awkward, but it doesn't suck.

“You think you'll be a bartender forever?” Jared asks.

Jensen grunts in response. “Probably. Wasn't the plan, but I like it, so probably.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Means I spent a lot of my parents' money to get a degree, but I fell in love with bartending while I was at it, so why give it up?”

It's so nonchalant, so perfectly Jensen, that Jared can't help chuckling, his fingers trailing along the line of Jensen's spine. “What's your degree in?”

“Sports medicine,” he answers, pressing his face to Jared's shoulder.

Jared blinks at the ceiling, completely uninterested in whatever's on the screen. “Seriously?”

“Hm,” is Jensen's response, aside from tasting Jared's throat. “Will telling you I have a Master's get me laid any faster?”

Jared just continues tracing his fingers over the warm skin between Jensen's tee shirt and the top of his jeans. 

“I'm serious,” Jensen reiterates with a lazy voice before his tongue darts out to taste Jared's skin again. “How long do I have before the coach turns into a pumpkin and you kick me out?”

Granted, they're probably moving a little slower than Jensen is used to, but their schedules don't exactly match up on a normal day. Jared can't stay up, waiting for Jensen to get off work, and maybe he's a little hesitant to let this thing go any further than it already has, as though slowing it down is an option at this point.

“First,” he grunts, shifting his leg and dragging his foot along the back of Jensen's calf, “There is way too much Cinderella in that metaphor, Prince Charming.” He barks a laugh when Jensen digs an elbow into his side. “And I don't kick you out. You leave because you know I'm going to fall asleep before your dick gets any play.”

He can practically hear the roll of Jensen's eyes along with the hand barely brushing along his side. “Someday you're going to admit that you're pumping the breaks on this thing before it gets too serious for you.”

“It's already serious,” Jared hears himself admitting in a whisper.

Jensen turns his face, presses his open mouth to the edge of Jared's jaw, and asks, “Yeah?” into his skin.

“I like having you around.” He's already gone for this guy so why not just lay it out there and see if the world comes crashing down around him, right? “I don't wanna stop having you around.”

When Jensen twists to meet Jared's eye, Jensen's knee digs into Jared's thigh. Jared winces, but the pain is worth it when Jensen gets that all-consuming, full-bodied smile on his face. “You don't say,” he teases.

“You are the only person I spend any time with outside of work. You cannot possibly be surprised that I like you,” he says, carefully shifting until Jensen's thigh is pressed between Jared's legs. It's uncomfortable, but in a much more pleasant way.

Jensen's smile brightens. “I'm more surprised that you admitted it.”

Truth be told, Jared is a little surprised by that, too, but he's more surprised by the way Jensen sits and straddles Jared's lap so gracefully in such a small space. It's won't last thirty seconds, but it's nice for the moment.

Jensen dips low, dragging wet kisses along the column of Jared's neck and then pulls back, his breath hot against Jared's ear. “So, what do you say we finally take this to the bedroom then?”

Jared just shakes his head, unable to speak with Jensen's mouth pressed tight against his throat. He's torn between never wanting to move again and knowing that his leg is going to fall asleep any minute now. Smacking Jensen's thigh, he nods in the direction of the hall. “Move it.”

Without hesitation, Jensen follows the order, backing off of Jared's lap and jogging toward the bedroom. Jared laughs as he makes his way at a slightly slower pace, his dick just hard enough to make walking more difficult than normal. It feels a little silly, being so eager to get into bed with someone at this point in his adult life, but it's too damn good to stop.

Jensen is already on the bed, naked and sprawled, propped up on one elbow while he absently strokes his cock and watches Jared step further into the room. “C'mon, man. Let's get a move on here.”

“You're so fucking impatient.”

“Yeah, well, you go to bed early, grandpa. I don't want you to get too tired half way through.” Jensen winks and scoots to the end of the bed. “I once got so drunk at a club that I passed out in the middle of sex with the guy I brought home. Woke up an hour later to him jerkin' off over me and, believe you me, I do not wanna be _that_ guy.”

“Jensen, stop talking.” 

Jared steps up to the bed, pushing his jeans over his hips as he moves, kicking out of them to slip in between Jensen's spread thighs. He curls one hand around the back of Jensen's neck and pulls him forward, using his other hand to guide his dick toward Jensen's mouth.

Greedily, Jensen takes the head between his lips, his fingers digging into Jared's thighs as he begins to suck with practiced ease. Fuck bartending, Jared thinks, this should be Jensen's profession. He lets his head fall forward, chin brushing his chest as he grunts and pushes his hips forward. What Jensen can't fit into his mouth, he strokes in perfect rhythm with his hands, the exact combination nearly enough to undo Jared in seconds.

It hasn't been that long since Jared got laid, but it's been long enough. The sounds he's making now are obscene, embarrassing, but he can't stop. Jensen feels too damn good.

“Ouch,” Jensen grimaces, pulling off Jared's dick with a wet pop when Jared tugs at his hair a little too hard. Looking up with an amused grin, Jensen loosens his grip and says, “Relax a little there, man. I'm not goin' anywhere.”

That final, tenuous cord of hesitation snaps, sending Jared collapsing onto the bed at Jensen's side. He's tired of holding it in, of keeping his cool and pretending that he doesn't want everything with Jensen. He meant what he said before – he likes having Jensen around – but it's more than that. He likes having Aldis and Misha around, too. Katie and Genevieve are also cool. He likes spending time with his sister and his parents. What he feels for Jensen is not the same. Just having him around isn't enough anymore.

Stretching and shifting until he finds a comfortable place on the mattress, he turns to find Jensen staring back at him with a raised eyebrow of confusion. Jared smirks. “What?”

“It's been less than ten minutes, Jared. If you need a break already, I'm not sure this thing is going to work.”

Jared laughs because, well, it's funny. Jensen is funny. He's also stupidly hot and naked in Jared's bed. Folding his arms behind his head, Jared spreads his thighs and shoots Jensen another smug smile. “I'm relaxed.” He nods downward and says, “Any time you wanna get back to it.”

With a roll of his eyes, Jensen grips Jared's dick tighter than before and stretches out at Jared's side. “Just for that, I'm gonna keep you up all fucking night.”

Jared thrusts into Jensen's fist, a challenge sparkling in his eyes. “Bring it, if you think you can.”

  


Vaguely, Jared remembers living for the weekend. In high school, college, and even in the early days of his career, he loved Friday afternoons and loathed Monday mornings. He’s been working seven days a week for years now, barely able to keep up with his workload as it is, so those lazy Saturdays seem less like reality and more like some dream he used to have when he was a kid. He always figured that he would view it a little differently when he started dating someone more regularly, that he would want to take off more weekends, but Friday and Saturday are Jensen’s busiest nights now. If Jared is going to get excited about any day of the week, it will be Monday or Tuesday, when Jensen shows up between midnight and one. The fact that his schedule is starting to take shape around Jensen’s, the implications of that, are not lost on Jared.

This Friday, though, feels different. Sunlight pours through Jared’s office window, bathing everything in a happier glow. Jensen slept over for the first time last night and Jared woke up feeling rested and relaxed instead of suffocated in his own bed, like he thought he would. He’s now eating chicken strips, leftover from Jensen’s shift at the bar last night, and watching squirrels chase each other in the yard. All in all, it’s not a bad day.

Katie doesn’t bother knocking as she breezes into Jared’s office with a scrap of paper in her hand. “I have a lead on the Harris case,” she announces without preamble or apology. “I found an old friend of her mother’s who had a phone number.”

Jared takes the paper and flips it over in his hands. “Did you think to ask about a son?”

“No, it totally slipped my mind,” Katie deadpans, hands on her hips. “She knows nothing of a son, but she said that she knew Sheila for about four years before she ever mentioned having a daughter, so it probably doesn’t mean anything.”

When the number Danneel gave them came up disconnected, Jared recognized the sinking feeling of dread in his stomach. They have to rely on lucky breaks from now on, which isn’t exactly Jared’s favorite way of working, but it’s not uncommon, either. Besides, today feels lucky. 

“Is it legit?” he asks, casting a glance at his chicken. So much for lunch.

Katie just shrugs, patting the desk as she turns to go. “I left a voicemail this morning and haven’t heard anything yet. I thought you might wanna give it a shot.”

Jared waits until she’s gone to stuff his lunch back into its bag and reach for the phone at the corner of his desk. The trepidation and raw anxiety that used to accompany these calls has faded over time, but this one is important. He can’t help being a little nauseous. He cares about all of his clients, of course, but this one is especially important. His client is important to someone who is becoming increasingly important to Jared; he wants this to work.

The phone rings three times before a soft voice answers with a soft, “Hello?”

Jared clears his throat and swallows his nerves. “Is this Sheila?” he asks, settling into his chair, into his routine.

“Yes?”

“Sheila, my name is Jared Padalecki. Your daughter, Danneel, hired me to do some searching for her,” he begins, just like he would any other phone call to any other potential lead in any other case. 

“Dammit,” Sheila interrupts with a huff. “She hasn't let that nonsense go yet?”

Jared bristles at her tone and shakes his head, schooling his tone. “She needs some definitive answers here.”

“She doesn't know what she needs.”

It's not that hard to see why Danneel doesn't really talk to her mom anymore, Jared thinks. “She has a brother, doesn't she?” he asks, cutting straight to the heart of the matter in the hopes of getting the hell off the phone before he loses his professional composure.

Sheila's voice is bitter cold when she says, “Believe me when I tell you that it does not fucking matter.”

This isn't the first time that pushing too hard too soon has driven a contact to hang up on Jared, but that doesn't make it suck any less. “Goddammit,” he hisses, slamming the phone against the cradle. “KATIE!” 

She appears in the doorway as though she was waiting just outside. “What do you need?”

Leaning forward to rub his forehead with one hand, Jared asks, “Did you find any birth records?”

“Just Danneel's. I thought I'd start on her dad this afternoon, if the phone call didn't work out.”

Jared nods. “It didn't work out,” he says, raising his head to meet her eye. “Just dig deep, if you have to. There's something she doesn't want Danneel to know.”

Katie nods, her ponytail swishing around her shoulders. “Any idea what?”

There are a million possibilities, but Jared offers a small smile and says, “That's what I have you for.”

He sighs when Katie is gone. Where's that lucky feeling he had a few minutes ago?

  


He tells himself that he's not here at nine o'clock on a Saturday morning to see Jensen. This is a business call. Danneel wasn't home last night when Jared left the office and he needs to talk to her in person. Trust is built through face-to-face meetings. He's absolutely not here because Jensen didn't show up after his shift this morning.

He knocks twice and then waits until Danneel answers the door, already dressed in a floor-length dress, velcro rollers stuck to the ends of her hair and a coffee mug in her hand. “Hey, Jared,” she greets, lifting onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “I think Jensen's still in bed. You can head back to wake him up if you want to.” As an afterthought, she adds, “Just make sure you stand back. He can be a kicker.”

He's already learned that first hand, thanks. “I'm actually here to see you,” he says, impressed that it sounds genuine.

“I was afraid of that,” she says, pressing the front door shut. She takes a drink and swallows hard as she leads him back to the kitchen.

“I talked to your mom yesterday,” he says, sinking to one of the stools at the island while Danneel drops a piece of bread into the toaster. “She wouldn't say anything, but I'm hopeful that we'll have some answers for you soon.”

Danneel doesn't say anything while she pours Jared a cup of coffee and slides him the sugar container. “Thank you,” is what she finally whispers, her voice breaking a little on the end.

Her hand closes over his and Jared nods, unsure of what he's supposed to say here. He's not used to feeling this tug, this desire to wrap a client up in a hug and assure her that everything is going to work out in the end. This protective pull in his chest is foreign and uncomfortable. 

“Get your own hot ass to flirt with,” Jensen says from the hallway, eyes fixed on Jared's and Danneel's joined hands on the island. He drapes an arm around Jared's shoulder and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth when Jared turns his face. “Morning, hot ass.”

It's stupid how easily that one kiss, along with the sight of Jensen in boxer briefs and nothing else can turn Jared's day around in an instant. “Good morning, yourself.”

“Why are you here?” Jensen asks, pulling himself away to circle the island and start on his own breakfast.

“Danneel makes awesome coffee,” Jared answers, lifting his cup in a quasi-toast.

She gives him a cheeky grin and returns the gesture. “It's true. I do,” she tells Jensen.

Jensen rolls his eyes at both of them. “It's not that great.” Danneel smacks his arm, causing drops of the hot liquid to spill over the edges of the cup and onto his arm. “Bitch.”

She elbows him in the gut and then smirks in satisfaction when he spills again. “Maybe he just missed your sunny disposition, doucheface.”

“We saw each other yesterday morning,” Jensen pouts, wiping the coffee from his arm with a towel.

“That's almost twenty-four hours, baby,” Jared argues with a playful wink.

Jensen scrunches his face. “Gross.”

Finally, Danneel sobers and says, “He's here professionally.”

“There was a break?” Jensen asks, setting his mug down and focusing his attention on Danneel.

Shrugging, Danneel plucks her toast from the toaster. “My mother was an unhelpful pain in the ass.”

“Oh, so nothing new then?”

She doesn't sound so convinced when she says, “Jared's hopeful.”

With a hand on her shoulder, he asks, “Are you?”

“I'm trying to be,” she answers with a sincere nod and a soft smile. Blinking, she says, “Okay, I gotta finish getting ready.” She jabs a warning finger in Jensen's face. “Do not mess up my clean kitchen.”

Jensen pushes her hand away and winks at Jared. “I promise not to let Jared cook.”

Danneel narrows her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

Jensen wiggles his eyebrows at Jared and Jared just laughs, shaking his head. It’s good to know that they’re still happily supportive of each other; if his instincts are right, they're going to need that soon. 

It's hard to worry about Danneel's case when Jensen rounds the island again and pushes Jared's shoulder, forcing him to turn on the stool. Jensen steps into the V of Jared's thighs and drapes his arms around Jared's neck. “You workin'?”

Jared nods and rests his hands against the sleep-warmed skin of Jensen's waist. “I was, until my client went that way.” He nods toward the hallway.

Pressing closer, Jensen sucks at the skin behind Jared's ear. “That's a shame,” he teases, nipping lightly at Jared's jaw. “Wanna fuck instead?”

He should probably get back to the office, see if Katie needs any help. He hasn't checked in with Aldis lately, either. There's paperwork that needs his attention. So he says, “Lead the way.” 

It's the only option right now anyway.

  


It's one thing for a client to know that Jared is dating someone. It's another all together to spend time with a client socially because she knows the guy Jared is dating. Knowing that Danneel's case is the reason he started dating Jensen doesn't make it any easier. There are rules.

“So, wait. He's a vampire, right? But he just walks around in the daylight, all willy nilly like that?”

Jared's on the couch, head resting against the back, while Jensen sits on the floor between his knees. Danneel is curled up on the other end of the couch, her nose scrunched as she focuses on the television, watching _Being Human_ at Jensen's insistence. Jared doesn't get it any more than she does, but he's not really trying like she is, either.

Jensen huffs, as though the answer to this question should be obvious. “Vampires have evolved, Danni. Come on. Pay attention. They're photosensitive, but not allergic to the light. He's not going to burst into flames. He's wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket for protection, for fuck’s sake.”

“Oh, obviously,” Danneel shoots back, tossing a piece of popcorn at the side of Jensen's head. “Ya know, I thought having a boyfriend and getting laid regularly would turn you into less of a geek.”

When she throws the next piece at him, Jensen turns and catches it in his mouth, chewing it with a sly grin. “I’ve always gotten laid regularly. Anyway, Jared likes me the way I am.”

Running one hand over the top of Jensen’s head, Jared turns to Danneel and offers her a heavy sigh and a defeated nod. “Even when I have no idea what he’s talking about,” he confirms.

“Yeah,” Danneel finally concedes after a long, affectionate look at Jensen. “Damn your charm and perfect hair, Ackles.”

She winks conspiratorially when Jared meets her eye. He slips his hand down to Jensen’s neck and adds, “His ass is alright, too.”

“And his mouth. I mean, you gotta love a mouth like that, right?” Danneel retorts.

“I’m right fucking here!” Jensen interrupts suddenly, popping up from the floor to flop between Jared and Danneel on the couch. He shoots Danneel a murderous glare first and then turns one on Jared, but he’s still chewing popcorn, so some of the effect is ruined. “When I said I wanted us to all hang out, this is not what I had in mind.”

Jared laughs, shaking his head as Jensen leans into him. “What exactly did you have in min d?”

“Please say threesome.”

Jared nearly chokes on the beer he just started swallowing. He sputters and Danneel gives him another wink. “I wasn’t expecting that,” he finally says when he can breathe again.

“That’s my girl,” Jensen responds, one arm shooting out to wrap around Danneel’s neck and haul her in toward Jensen’s chest. “Always full of surprises.”

She squeals as he furiously rubs the top of her head with his fist, both of them laughing until their faces turn red as they part. Jensen once told Jared that Danneel was like his family; Jared could see it that first day, but it’s undeniable now. If Jared is going to continue seeing Jensen – and he absolutely is – then he’s going to have to get used to thinking of Danneel as something other than a client, something more. 

When she tells a filthy joke a few minutes later, when it makes her laugh so hard she has to dart to the bathroom and then returns without a hint of embarrassment for it, Jared thinks it shouldn’t be hard to stop thinking of Danneel as a photo in a file on his desk and start seeing her as a real, warm, pretty cool, totally real person.

  


Jensen's back is long, smooth, beneath Jared's chest. His ass grips Jared's cock like a vice. Heat and sweat slide between their bodies as Jared holds Jensen's hips steady and drives into him with tenacity.

Rearing back so fast he nearly headbutts Jared, Jensen lets out a primal growl, loud and desperate and so, so good. He shouts words that would make a prisoner blush, demanding more and screaming out when Jared gives it to him. He's the most uninhibited guy Jared has ever fucked and, as it turns out, Jared can't get enough of it.

“Fucking hell,” Jared gasps when they're lying side-by-side, sated and incapable of sudden movements.

“That good, huh?”

Jared laughs in response, shaking his head as he catches another breath. “Just promise me, if anything ever happens with us, I get to keep your ass in the break up.”

Jensen's responding chuckle is forced between gasps of air and a cringe when he rolls onto his side, his body stretching and flinching in a way that makes Jared rather proud. He did that, gave Jensen that soft soreness that will remind him of Jared every time he moves for the next few hours. It's probably not Jared's greatest accomplishment, but it feels like a win nonetheless.

After a few minutes of silence, Jensen runs a hand over Jared’s thigh. “So, I have a proposition for you.”

Jared can barely muster the energy to chuckle. “Will it call my virtue into question?” 

Jensen moans, slipping his hand over Jared’s soft dick and then back to his leg again. “It involves my family, so I really fucking hope not.” Off of Jared's raised eyebrow, Jensen hitches himself up on one elbow. “Yeah. So Saturday's my folks' fortieth wedding anniversary and my sister is throwing this huge party.”

“And you want me to come?” Jared asks, rolling his head toward Jensen on the pillow.

“Well, yeah,” Jensen says. “For one, I want them to meet you. And for another, I usually take Danneel to these family things, but I'm not sure she's up for it this year.”

The uncharacteristic sadness in Jensen's eyes strikes something in Jared's chest. “Meeting the parents is a big step, Jensen.” Jared threads his fingers through Jensen's. “Are we there?”

There is not an ounce of hesitation in Jensen's voice when he says, “I know I am.”

Something settles deep in Jared's gut, something foreign but comfortable and so damn right. He smiles in spite of himself. “Alright.”

“Yeah?”

Jared lifts their joined hands and rubs his mouth against Jensen's knuckles. “Yeah. It'll be fun.”

“You're awesome,” Jensen says with a bright smile, rolling over Jared and grinding his ass down against Jared's thighs. 

“I am,” Jared agrees with a short nod. He can't stop the smile that stretches over his face, the happiness that spreads through his belly. “You're really very lucky,” he says, though it feels like he's the lucky one here.

  


Jared barely makes it through the front door of the office before Genevieve is accosting him with wide eyes and clapping hands. “You're meeting Jensen's parents?” she asks, literally bouncing in her seat with the excitement of it

“Is this what I pay you for?” Jared asks with a playful grin.

“Social networking is part of my job,” she reminds him, tapping on the business card holder at the front of her desk. 

Sometimes – usually when she comes up with some crazy print ad for local newspapers or magazines, with skeletons and creepy lighting – Jared regrets giving her the 'marketing strategist' title. Nodding toward her phone, he says, “Following my boyfriend is not part of your job.”

From her spot at the coffee machine, Katie looks over and says, “Boyfriend?” as though the word is foreign in this office. To be fair, it kind of is.

“Listen to this,” Genevieve says to her, despite Jared’s attempt to stop them. His personal life is not up for discussion here, but they don’t seem to care. “Busy weekend, celebrating folks fortieth and keeping UTMac away from the boyfriend.”

“Who’s UTMac?” Jared interrupts. He's not interested or anything, but it _is_ Jensen's Twitter. He should probably know the players involved, at least.

Genevieve rolls her eyes as though Jared is hopeless. “You don’t know your boyfriend’s sister? Mackenzie is a senior at UT. Jesus, Jared, he’s just my bartender and I know that!”

“I know who Mackenzie is,” Jared snaps back. “Sue me if I don’t know her Twitter name.”

Genevieve still huffs as though Jared is hopeless. “You’re hopeless.”

“Can I go now?” he asks, pointing toward his office. “Are we done here?” Genevieve dismisses him with a disgusted wave. “You guys need anything?” he asks as he passes the table on his way through the space.

“I’m good,” Misha says, shooting him a wry grin that is more sleepy than welcoming.

“I,” Aldis hesitates, clicking furiously at the buttons on his keyboard before schooling his frown into something a little less disturbed. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?” Jared asks, resting a hand on Aldis’ shoulder. 

Aldis waves a hand and says, “Yeah, I’m sure,” but it’s not very convincing.

  


On Saturday afternoon, it occurs to Jared that Jensen forgot to mention that his parents live on a sprawling estate with miles of manicured yards and a freaking stable. It's beautiful, but it's not at all what Jared was expecting. Jensen does not seem like the kind of guy who grew up like this, though he's not entirely sure what that means.

He hands his keys to the valet – he's pretty sure that the guy's only here because of the party, but he couldn't say that for sure – and fidgets with the lapels of his jacket while he waits for Jensen to get off the phone with Danneel.

Finally, he says his goodbyes and shoves his phone into his pocket, smiling brightly at Jared and gripping his hand. “Don't be nervous,” he says, leading the way toward the door.

Jared huffs. “It's your family. I'm allowed to be nervous.” It's not the first time he's been in this position, but it's definitely the most nauseating.

“The last guy I introduced to them was a crazy, vegan teacher.”

“He taught veganism?” Jared asks, a playful smile teasing the corners of his mouth.

Jensen just rubs Jared's forearm and shakes his head. “Asshole. I just mean they're going to love you out of relief alone.”

“Well, there’s a vote of confidence,” Jared says dryly.

Jensen pulls up short at the door and says, “Hey, look at me. They’re going to love you, mostly because they know I’m crazy about you, but also because you’re really impressive.” He pushes Jared's shoulder, adds, “Just be yourself, okay?”

To break some of the tension, Jared says, “I think vegans get a bad rp. Who the hell cares if they don’t eat eggs or wheat or whatever,” as they walk into the foyer of the house.

“I think you’re lumping them in with gluten-free people.”

“Whatever. The point is a man should not be judged by what he chooses to put in his mouth.”

Stopping in the impressively gigantic kitchen, Jensen turns to Jared, his smile breaking wide and knowing. “Did you just turn this into a commentary on homophobia?” He's all fond sincerity when he says, “You're amazing.”

The brief kiss Jensen presses to his lips is interrupted by the slide of the patio door and an accompanying squeal. “Jensen!”

Jensen pulls away to wipe his bottom lip with his thumb as a small blond woman with a kind face zooms around the kitchen island to throw her arms around him, as though she hasn't seen him in months. “Hey, Momma,” Jensen greets, indulging her tight hug before nodding toward the patio. “Mac wasn't kidding with this whole party thing, huh?”

There are at least twenty-five people milling around the backyard, weaving between tables and tents to put the finishing touches on flower arrangements and catering tables. There is a dance floor under the central tent, with a stage for whatever band Jensen's sister has hired today. It's quite the sight.

“She has lost her damn mind,” Jensen's mom – Jared thinks her name is Donna – says with a wave of her hand.

Jared chuckles while Jensen nods. “That’s nothing new.”

“I heard that!” Mackenzie shouts, blond curls bobbing in the soft breeze as she steps into the house and shuts the door carefully behind her. She pulls up short beside Jared. “Holy shit.”

Her mother smacks her arm. “Watch your mouth, young lady.”

Mackenzie seems unaffected by her mother’s scolding. “Did you see this hot mountain of muscles Jensen brought home?” she asks, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder in Jared’s direction. “Be thankful I only said holy shit.”

“I’m so sorry, Jared,” Jensen’s mother interrupts. “I promise I raised them to behave better than this.”

Jared just smiles, the love between the three of them evident from this one simple exchange. “I’m sure my mother would say the same about my siblings and I.”

Donna steps forward then, hugs him just like she did Jensen a minute ago, warm and familial. “Well, it’s great to finally meet you. I feel like you’re the only thing Jensen knows how to talk about anymore.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, too. I’m glad to be here.”

She turns to Jensen, her eyes wide and approving. “He’s so polite. And he smells so much better than the last one, too.”

Jensen just smirks at Jared and then winks. “Told you.”

A man that Jared assumes is Alan, Jensen’s father, comes into the kitchen from the foyer, carrying a book in one hand and looking anxious. “Did I hear my son's voice?”

“Hey, Pop,” Jensen greets, a fond smile for his dad.

In response, Alan holds the book out. “I got an iPad.”

Mackenzie nudges Jared with an elbow and says, “That’s kind of like Dad’s version of ‘hello.’”

As if just noticing there’s someone else standing nearby, Alan turns toward Jared. “Who’s this?”

“Pop, I told you about Jared, remember?” Jensen prods, though he's relaxed like he knows exactly what's coming next. 

“Still Jared, huh?” He smiles playfully. Jared likes him instantly.

Donna also smiles, her face full of affection for the man she married forty years ago. “Stop it,” she says with an honest-to-god giggle.

“What?” Alan defends himself with a laugh. “It’s not like he’s made a habit of keeping them around this long.”

“It's like I walked into the friggin' UCB.” Jensen rolls his eyes, but Jared can tell that he's as humored by them as they are by each other. “So, what apps do you have so far, Pop?” They turn away at the island, leaving Jared to talk with Jensen’s mother and sister alone. 

Donna just crosses her arms over her chest. “Those two will be huddled over that thing for the rest of the day.”

“Which means you should totally come with me, Jared,” Mackenzie announces, grabbing Jared’s elbow and dragging him out of the kitchen. “I have a ton of embarrassing pictures and childhood art projects to show you.”

Jared laughs and follows willingly. “Awesome.”

  


Jensen is entertaining, fun to be with and downright amusing, but Jensen as a child is the funniest thing Jared has ever seen. Every photograph is so full of life and color and joy. He's in perpetual motion, constantly laughing and usually blurry. Until he was seven or eight, most of the pictures Jared has seen are of the back of his head or the side of his face, since Jensen couldn’t be bothered to sit still long enough for the flash to go off. It's adorable.

“What’s going on in here?” Jensen asks from the doorway as Mackenzie is showing Jared another set of pictures, now from the Halloween when Jensen was twelve, dressed like a ninja with an aluminum foil broadsword. 

Jared flips the picture around as Jensen crosses the room. “Your sister is walking me down your awkward memory lane,” he explains with a gleeful grin.

Jensen drops onto the couch at his side with an exaggerated groan. “Oh, fuck me.”

“Come on,” Jared teases, grabbing another picture off the coffee table. “You were a cute little twink.”

What a twink Jensen was. The photo in Jared’s hand is of a grinning, frosted-haired teenager wearing red, leather pants and a black muscle shirt, full lips pouted like some corner prostitute. It’s so ‘boy band,’ Jared finds it equal parts endearing and hilarious.

“I’m still cute,” Jensen grunts, grabbing the picture away from Jared and tossing it back to the table.

Jared just nods and leans over to kiss Jensen quickly. “You’re alright.”

“These are new,” Mackenzie exclaims, pulling a stack of pictures out of an old, yellowed envelope from the bottom of the box she’s been rifling through with Jared. “Oh, where have you been all my life?” she asks the stack with a giggle.

Jensen squeezes Jared’s knee and starts to stand. “You wanna get outta here?” he asks quickly. With a lewd wiggle of his eyebrows. “I’ll show you my childhood bedroom.”

Jared accepts the pictures Mackenzie is offering him and tells Jensen, distractedly, “Mac already showed me.”

“Not the way I’m gonna show you,” Jensen promises, leaning over to suck on Jared’s earlobe. 

Fuck, that’s tempting.

Until Mac scrunches her nose and exclaims, “Don’t be gross. Not at Mom and Dad’s party.”

Jensen just shrugs and says, “Wouldn’t be the first time,” in a tone that is clearly only meant to rile his sister up. 

She rises easily to the bait. “You are a disgusting human being,” she says, gasping at another picture. “Shit, Jensen, your ears were even huge back then!”

She’s looking at the hospital photo, the one taken just hours after Jensen was born. His face is pink and wrinkly, his eyes squeezed shut and his little fists balled up near his mouth. 

“Yeah, well you had a Pekinese face,” Jensen retorts without bothering to look at the pictures his sister is passing to Jared. “Dude, her face was all squishy and flat, like she ran into a fucking wall.”

“Aw,” Jared teases when he looks at the picture of Jensen is in his mother’s arms, standing in front of the hospital. “Look at your little pink blanket.”

“Mom wanted a girl,” Jensen explains. “She came to the hospital, hoping for a girl.”

“Were you wearing a dress under the blanket?”

“No,” Jensen exclaims, though he’s smiling and shaking his head. “Dad went out and bought a bunch of boy clothes so I wouldn’t have to.”

“Is that the gay blanket?” Mackenzie asks him pointedly. 

Jensen nods and snorts, leaning over to rest his chin on Jared’s shoulder. “After I came out to my parents, my mom blamed herself for bringing me home in a pink blanket.” To Mackenzie, he says, “That’s probably why those pictures are shoved into the bottom of the box.”

“Does she still blame herself?” Jared asks.

“I don’t think so. We haven’t really talked about it in years, but she seems fine with it now. “

“Oh, please,” Mackenzie interrupts with a melodramatic eye roll. “She was never not going to be fine with it. You’re her golden boy. You could have sat them down and told them you killed someone and they would have been fine with it.”

Jensen doesn’t bother denying it. “I am kinda her favorite,” he says with a proud grin.

Jared just hums. “Must be your charm,” he teases.

“I do have a lot of it,” Jensen confirms, leaning forward to kiss him a little more than is probably appropriate in public.

“You know what they say about charm, right?” Jared says when they break, a little breathless. “Charm is just an asshole with a smile.”

“Hm, that’s probably true,” Jensen agrees. “My asshole is very happy,” he adds with a knowing wink. “It probably does smile quite a bit.”

“You are the grossest person on the planet,” Mackenzie accuses, beginning to gather the pictures from the table, haphazardly shoving them back into the box.

Jensen drapes an arm around Jared’s shoulder and presses himself even closer to Jared’s side. “Don’t you have a party to plan?”

With the smile that only a bratty little sister can shine, Mackenzie says, “I already planned it. And then hired a ton of people to carry it out, so I could sit around embarrassing you.” She stands with a grunt and takes a bow. “You’re welcome.”

Jensen just rolls his eyes and flops back on the couch, throwing his arms out. “What did I do to deserve such a pain in the ass little sister?”

Jared can only laugh because Jensen with his family is even better than Jensen on his own. He’s kind of loving this guy a little more with each passing day.

  


Two hours into the party, there are nearly a hundred people milling around the backyard, laughing and reminiscing about this marriage that has spanned four decades and has obviously touched a lot of lives. It’s pretty refreshing to see; Jared’s glad he came.

Jared sips at his glass of champagne and scans the dance floor for Jensen. It's not really Jared's thing, dancing, but Jensen has been out there since dinner ended. Watching him isn't the worst way Jared can think to spend an afternoon.

He finds Donna alone at the head table. It’s probably the first time she’s had a second to breathe today, after all of the palm-pressing and anecdote-sharing, and he hesitates to join her, but finally decides that talking to her will be better than hovering creepily in the corner. 

“Are you supposed to be sitting around alone at your own party?” he teases, pulling the chair out beside her.

She smiles kindly with a nod toward the dance floor. “Mac stole my partner,” she says with a warm smile.

Jared follows her eye line to the place on the floor where Mackenzie is dancing with her father. Setting his glass on the table in a snap decision, he stands and extends his hand. “Would you like another?”

She seems surprised as she takes his hand and grins even wider. “That would be lovely, Jared. Thank you.” She leads the way to the floor and winds an arm around Jared’s neck, takes his other hand in hers, and follows his lead to the whimsical tune coming from the string quartet on the stage. “So, Jensen tells me you find people for a living.”

While he didn't actually want to talk about his job today, Jared nods. “That probably seems a little strange.” He supposes there are only so many things he can talk to his boyfriend's mother about anyway.

“No, I think it says a lot about your character,” Donna says, offering him a genuine smile. Off of Jared’s short nod, she continues. “And you’re helping Danneel now?”

Jared bristles. “I can’t really discuss my cases with anyone,” he says as politely as he possibly can.

“I understand that. I do hope it works out for her.”

“I’m pretty good at finding answers for the people who need them,” Jared assures her.

Donna gives him a soft, knowing smile. “I’m sure you are. I just mean that I hope it’s what she expects it to be.”

Jared only smiles because, obviously, this is where Jensen gets his skepticism.

As if telegraphing Jared's thoughts, she says, “I suppose that sounds a little skeptical. She's just such a sweet girl that I can't stand the thought of her precious heart breaking if it doesn't go the way she hopes it will.”

The only thing Jared can think to say is, “Well, she has Jensen to help her hold the pieces together. That's pretty fantastic support system, I think.” He catches Jensen's eye as he sweeps one of his aunts around the floor, smiling in spite of himself.

Donna just sighs. “I love my son, Jared,” she assures him, the look echoing Jared's own. “But don't fool yourself into thinking even he will be able to fix the damage that thirty years of secrets could cause.”

  


It's nearly midnight by the time they stumble into Jared's house, exhausted and flushed from just this side of too much dancing and alcohol. While it was fun to see Jensen in his element, Jared is anxious to crawl into bed with this guy he's stupidly crazy about, naked and sated if possible.

Jensen follows him through the living room and down the hall, stripping his shirt over his head as they go. Sometimes Jared is sure that Jensen reads his mind. 

“So, that went well,” Jensen says as he begins to work the button on his jeans at the bedroom door.

Jared lays his own shirt over the back of the chair in the corner. “Yeah, you're family's pretty great.”

“They are,” Jensen agrees, stepping into the room while pushing his underwear over his hips. “Ya know who else is great? You.” He sprawls onto the bed, reclined on his elbows with his legs spread in a blatant invitation.

There's a response on the tip of Jared's tongue, but it just won't come out. Instead, he finishes undressing and climbs onto the bed at Jensen's side, his hands skimming the smooth skin of Jensen's back; it's his current obsession, the lithe lines of Jensen's muscles and the divots at the base of his spine. 

Jensen's fingers ghost over the rounded muscles of Jared's shoulders, sending a brief chill through Jared's chest. “You were a pro,” he says against Jared's neck. Pulling back, he says, “Even with my dad talking your ear off about spy technology.”

At that, Jared laughs. “Yeah, I'm not entirely sure he knows exactly what I do.” He really didn't understand half of the shit Jensen's dad was talking about this afternoon, but he's pretty good at faking enthusiasm for things he's not into; it's one of the perks of having artistic parents, he figures.

He doesn't have to fake enthusiasm with Jensen's tongue circling his nipple, his hand working low across Jared's hip. He'll be one hundred percent genuine here.

Jensen gives him room to lie back, stretching into the welcoming softness of the bed, before he straddles Jared's hips. One hand in Jensen's hair, Jared says, “You'll have to come back home with me sometime.” It's been awhile since he deemed someone important enough to share him with the family. Jensen is definitely important enough.

With a startled look, Jensen sits upright and digs his fingers into Jared's pecs. “Yeah?”

“You're exactly the guy they've been hoping I would meet for years,” Jared assures him.

“Seriously?”

“You're spontaneous, borderline crazy,” Jared teases, flinching when Jensen squeezes his chest harder. “My mom always says that I think too much, analyze everything, and forget how important it is to feel things. She's gonna love you.” 

He drags his hand over the top of Jensen's head and back down to his neck. The way he's smiling right now, it's the definition of 'lovestruck.' He can feel it, so he knows that Jensen can see it, too.

“Your parents are total hippies, aren't they?” Jensen asks after a moment of silent consideration.

The term always makes Jared laugh – this time is no different – but it's not completely off the mark. “We're like the fucking Keatons, man,” he admits. 

Jensen laughs, rakes his blunt nails over Jared's chest in a maneuver that sends pleasure shocks straight to Jared's dick. “I can't wait to meet them,” he says, leaning forward to mouth at the hollow of Jared's throat.

Resting his hands on Jensen's hips, Jared squeezes the warm skin and says, “How 'bout, as soon as I wrap up Danneel's case, you and I road trip out there? Spend a few days with my folks. I'll show you my old haunts. Introduce you to my embarrassing little sister?”

Jensen's eyes dance with the possibilities. “I would love that,” he says, before returning his attention to Jared's throat. He licks over Jared's jaw and bites against his earlobe. “I'd also love to stop talking about our families and get busy with the fucking.”

Jared nods. “Yeah, let's do that.”

  


Jared might be singing a little under his breath as he makes his way through the front door on Monday morning. He worked from home yesterday, but spent most of the day just hanging out with Jensen. They went grocery shopping together, for fuck's sake. Then Jensen woke him up with a mind-blowing blow job this morning, followed him into the shower and let Jared fuck him against the wall, and made him coffee to bring to work when he was running way too far behind schedule. His life does not suck.

“Someone's happy,” Genevieve comments as Jared flips through the contents of his mailbox.

For once, he doesn't bother trying to hide it, opting instead to raise his coffee cup in a quasi-salute. “I had a good weekend,” is all he gives her.

The response delights her. She leans forward on her elbows, knowing smile on her face. “So you wowed the family, huh?”

“I don't know, Gen,” Jared teases in return, “what does Twitter say?”

Glancing at her computer, she clears her throat. “Highlight of the weekend? BF-,” she cuts a look toward Jared, “That means boyfriend.” Jared sticks his tongue out and Genevieve goes on,” BF and mom dancing and laughing together. This might be it.”

Jared feels the tingle of warmth all the way to his toes, but he swallows the urge to beam with another gulp of his coffee. “It went well,” is all he gives her.

“I think I can make your Monday pretty great, too,” Katie interrupts, sauntering over to Jared with a file folder in her hand.

Thankful for the diversion, Jared turns on his heel and asks, “Whatcha got for me?”

“I found Harris' brother.”

“You're sure?” Jared clarifies, feeling the familiar urge to pump his fist beginning to ball low in his belly.

Katie nods. “One hundred percent.”

“You contact him?”

This time, Katie shakes her head. “Figured I'd leave that up to you.”

Technically, Danneel never asked them to make contact. She just asked him to confirm or deny her brother's existence. It's for the best that Katie didn't go any further yet. “I'll head over to the house after she gets off work, see what she wants to do from here.” He hands the folder back and asks, “Can you work a packet up so I have something to give her?”

He could call, but he feels like he owes Danneel a face-to-face. She's a friend now, or at least Jared would like to think she is. They've eaten Chinese takeout together while watching singing game shows, mocking Jensen's love for Adam Levine, so that's more than he can say for most of his clients. Or any of them, really.

Katie nods. “Sure thing.”

Aldis spins in his chair as Jared is walking by, en route to his office. “Hey, Jay, can I get an assist this morning?”

“Sure thing, man. What do you need?” If nothing else, it will keep Jared's mind off of Danneel's case.

Shrugging, Aldis taps a pile of papers on the table and says, “Standard birth mother but I need some more info out of her.”

Jared nods and takes another sip of his too-quickly-cooling coffee. “For sure. Let me know when you wanna head out.”

  


For years, they’ve been administering meetings in neutral locations, such as public parks and restaurants. They’re usually low-key affairs, but Jared has learned that people are less likely to explode or throw wild accusations at one another when other families are present nearby. It’s a tried and true system: meet with the clients in the privacy of the office or their own home, reunite them in the safety of a public setting.

Aldis’ client is insisting that they meet in an upscale restaurant on the northern edge of the city. It breaks Jared’s personal protocol, but he understands it when she meets them at the hostess station and leads them through the kitchen to her office in the back of the building.

“Natalie, this is Jared,” Aldis introduces as the client sinks into her leather chair and folds her hands against the desk.

She smiles, kind and young, and says, “I’ve seen your pictures on the billboards.”

Those fucking billboards. Genevieve insisted that she cut a deal for space downtown that would still fit within the meager advertising budget Jared has given her, along with the marketing title. It was small on purpose, to avoid things like those stupid, giant billboards with Jared's stupid, giant face on them. Somehow, his team is still plastered along the highway coming into and going out of town. 

Instead of dumping that on Natalie, he says, “Aldis highlighted your case for me, but I’d like to hear the story from you.”

She takes a deep breath and taps her fingers against one another on the desk top. “It’s not long and complicated or anything. I was married at a really young age, we had a son and a decent life together. Things were really good until they weren’t, ya know?” She grimaces at those memories. “We separated, gave each other some time to work on our own issues, and then I found out that he’d been seeing this woman he worked with.” Her face twists painfully. “Being the mature woman that I was, I decided to hook up with some random guy in a biker bar for revenge.” She huffs and shakes her head in disgust.

Jared holds both hands up and shoots her a warm smile. “I’m not judging.”

“I still do,” Natalie admits, blinking tears that have yet to fall. “Anyway, we got back together shortly after that and then I found out I was pregnant.” She wipes her fingers beneath her eyes, though there’s nothing on her cheeks to catch. “My husband was forgiving, but unsure that he could raise another man’s baby as his own, so we agreed that I would put it up for adoption as soon as the baby was born.”

He’s finding Natalie hard to read. Whether or not she regrets giving her baby up back then, whether she resents her husband, whether she was in total agreement with him, it’s all hidden behind this wall she’s been reinforcing for years. 

“I’m assuming it was a closed adoption,” Jared finally says. It’s possible that she lost contact with the child over the years, but Jared’s following his gut on this one.

“Very closed. I didn’t want to know anything – not the baby’s sex, its name, the family it went to, nothing. I knew I’d never be able to walk away if I assigned any of those attributes to this child.” She laughs sarcastically and shakes her head. “That probably makes me sound like some kind of ice queen or something.”

Again, Jared holds his hands up, indicating that it is not his place to judge. “Can I ask you why you’re looking into it now?”

As if the weight of the situation is pulling her down, Natalie leans forward and clasps her hands together. “I’ve always wondered, maybe worried a little bit. I want to know that I made the right call and that he or she has a good life. Also, my husband died last year, right around the same time my son told me that his wife is pregnant with my fourth grandchild. All of these changes are taking place in our family and I can’t help thinking that a part of it is out there somewhere, missing.”

Jared releases a deep breath and straightens in his chair. “I want to make sure that you understand we're starting as far behind the eight ball as is humanly possible here, Natalie. We'll dig as deeply as we can and try to find some information for you, but there's no guarantee that we're going to be able to find anything at all, especially if you don't know the gender of the baby.” 

Aldis is good at this job, damn good, but Jared can't help wondering why the hell he even accepted this case in the first place. It's a conversation better had out of earshot from the client, but they're definitely going to be having it on the way back to the office.

Natalie exhales, relief washing over her like a visible wave. “You're the first agency I've talked to who is even willing to try. That alone means a lot to me.”

Jared offers her the most sympathetic grin he can muster as he stands, reaching across the desk to shake her hand. If there's a chance this kid can be found, they'll cling to that. It's what they do. This one's not going to be easy, though. He only hopes that Aldis hasn't gotten this woman's hopes up too high.

In the parking lot, Jared stares out the windshield and scrubs a hand over his face. “Fuckin' hell, man, what are you thinking? There's less than nothing to work with here.”

“I know, but she has a right to know, doesn't she?”

Jared sighs, his professional mask slipping because this is Aldis; he's just going to see through the facade anyway. “Yeah, I know. No matter what choices she made however long ago, she deserves the answers she's looking for now, if we can find them.”

Aldis hesitates before he says, “I already found him.”

“What?” When Jared looks over, Aldis is licking his lips nervously, staring over the parking lot, refusing to meet Jared's eye. “Why didn't you tell her that then?”

This time, Aldis flinches. “Because the son she gave up for adoption thirty years ago was Jensen.”

  


After a twenty-minute conversation that mostly consisted of _You're insane_ on Jared's part and _No, I'm not_ on Aldis' part, Jared is sitting numb in his office. There's an unopened file on his desk, thick and brimming with supposed information that can't possibly lead to the conclusion Aldis thinks it does.

Jensen wasn't born here in Austin. He didn't move to here until he was nine. Jared spent the entire weekend with Jensen's family and saw pictures of him at birth. Granted, he didn't pay attention to the name of the hospital, but that doesn't matter. He saw, with his own two eyes, the tired look in Donna's eyes as she held that infant in the pink blanket. It just doesn't make sense.

If Jensen was adopted, he would have mentioned that to Jared by now, wouldn't he? They don't know everything about each other yet, but that certainly would have come up in conversation. Unless, as Aldis pointed out in the car, Jensen doesn't know that he's adopted. In that case, there's a whole new layer of fucked-upedness here and Jared doesn't know if he wants to dig into the pile of shit stacking up around this entire situation.

All he knows for sure is that they cannot tell Natalie about this until he's as convinced as Aldis is that it's true. Jared's never been one to hesitate in finding the truth, but this case is so fucking close to home that it could change Jensen's – and therefore his own – life forever.

His hand shakes as he flips the folder open and looks at the work Aldis has been putting in for the last few weeks. It's comprehensive and well-presented, that much Jared can admit.

Natalie's first e-mail gives little more than the hospital and the date. Aldis has scribbled a note in the margin that says _Date seems familiar_ with a question mark. The next few pages are correspondence with the adoption agency that Natalie worked with, requests for information and denials of it on several occasions. A typed report from Aldis documents a few phone requests as well, and explains that the closed adoption cannot be opened without written consent from both the birth and adoptive parents. That's not new – they've run into that roadblock on many occasions – but he can admire the number of attempts Aldis made, nonetheless.

Next in the pile are public birth records, and a printed version of a birth certificate with Natalie's name as the mother. The father's name is there, too, but it's the child's name that sinks Jared's stomach to his toes. _Jensen Ackles._ The date on the certificate is highlighted and circled and, on the next page, Aldis' original background check on Jensen is attached, the one Jared asked him to run when he took Danneel's case, along with another highlighted and circled birth date and an exclamation point in Aldis' handwriting.

Another email from Natalie outlines her medical history and says that she is attaching a few records. Those are printed out, too. Jared scans them quickly, a knowing sense of dread sinking in his stomach, before he moves on to a surprising document beneath it: Jensen's Master's thesis. Aldis has highlighted pertinent sections, the ones where Jensen details his own medical history in dealing with an old baseball injury. A lot of said details match up with Natalie's medical records. It could be coincidence, but Jared is finding it harder and harder to believe that.

The next few pieces of information only solidify Aldis' case even further. Jensen's father used to work for a company in Austin. A quick reference check confirms that he resigned that position two weeks before Jensen was born. He started a new job in Dallas the week after Jensen was born. There's a print-out of a newspaper editorial beneath that, a detailed piece about the beauty of adoption, published two months before Jensen's birth, written by Jensen's mom. Granted, it only states that she feels it's a powerful expression of love, not that she's planning on doing it herself, but still.

This folder is full of a lot of fucking coincidences. Or it's glaringly, obviously true.

His shoulders sag against the chair, his stomach sinking to his toes as Jared rakes a hand through his hair. Aldis has agreed to let Jared handle this one from here, but Jared really doesn't want to. The truth is supposed to be easy. It's supposed to be absolute and freeing and the right thing to do. 

Right now, it feels like an albatross.

  


As much as he'd like to go home, turn his phone off, and just avoid the hell out of Jensen until he figures out how to approach this entire situation, Jared has to deliver the news of Danneel's brother. He thinks about doing it over the phone, figures she'd accept it either way, but something about that sits wrong in his chest. Not as wrong as the feeling he gets when he pulls up in front of the house and sees Jensen's car, but wrong nonetheless.

The scent of garlic, onion, and mushroom wafts past Danneel when she opens the front door, laughing over her shoulder. Her eyes widen in surprise as she greets, “Hey you,” while easily tossing her hair.

Jared plasters his smile in place. “Is this a good time?”

She pushes the door further open and steps back, her gigantic, fuzzy slippers brushing against the hardwood floor. “Yeah, it's great. Jensen's making dinner.”

For the first time since they met, Jensen is the last person Jared wants to see right now. With all of this new information in his head, putting himself into the same room with Jensen seems like an unnecessary risk. It's impossible not to smile back when Jensen tosses him one of those megawatt grins, though.

“Hey,” Jensen says, face so open and genuinely happy to see him that Jared's heart squeezes painfully in his chest.

Jared stops at the island, opposite the pair of them. “I'm not really here to eat,” he says, focusing on the flecks in the granite counter top instead of their faces.

“It's fine,” Jensen assures him, twisting back to the pan and pulling it off the heat. “There's plenty here.”

Jared catches his bottom lip between his teeth and looks up, trying his best to focus on the task at hand, to school his features and pretend everything is just fine and dandy. “I just wanted to talk to Danneel for a second.”

Apparently, Jared is a terrible liar. Jensen stops short and tilts his head in Jared's direction, his face a textbook picture of concern. “Are you okay?”

“I'm great,” he insists too quickly.

It's Danneel who breaks the tension with a whispered, “You found him.” When Jared nods, tears well fat in her eyes. “Oh, wow.”

Jared clears his throat and shifts his attention fully to her. “We have a phone number, but whether I contact him or not is up to you, okay? You're still calling all the shots on this one.”

She nods, but it's Jensen that she's looking at when she whispers, “He's real. I'm not crazy, Jensen. He's fucking real.”

The weight of the realization settles heavy over the room. Jensen steps forward to wrap his arms around Danneel, mouthing over her head to Jared, “Thank you.”

Jared nods and pushes away from the counter. “I'm gonna give you guys some time.” Danneel pulls away from Jensen and walks toward Jared as he says, “There's no expiration date on this. Take your time and figure out where you wanna go from here. There's no rush.”

She steps up to his chest and wraps her arms around his neck. “Thanks, Jared. This means everything to me.”

Wordlessly, he gives her shoulder a soft squeeze and then shows himself out of the house. He has to get away from the emotional high of giving a client good news, clashing violently with the low of hiding the devastating secret from Jensen.

He's nearly to his car, almost able to breathe again, when Jensen calls after him. “Hey!” He's leaning against the porch railing again, like he was the day Jared met him, in the same threadbare jeans. “Can I come over tonight after my shift?” he asks, hesitant.

“I have a lot of work to do,” Jared says, the guilt sinking with each word. “I'll probably be asleep tonight.”

This time, Jensen steps off the porch and walks slowly toward Jared. “Are you sure you're okay?” He has to feel the tension draining under his hands when he's close enough to rest them on Jared's shoulders. 

“Yeah, it's just.” Jared stops and allows himself to relax into Jensen's touch. No matter what he's dealt with today, Jensen is the same guy Jared loves. He hasn't been changed by any of this yet. Maybe he doesn't have to be at all. “It's been a long day,” he finally says, and it feels like the first time he's told Jensen the truth today. 

“Okay,” Jensen says, though it's clear he's not really buying it.

Maybe to prove his point, maybe because it's just too hard to resist, Jared frees his house key from the ring in his hands and presses it into Jensen's palm. “Here. Just let yourself in, okay?”

Jensen takes the key, but his eyes are still clouded with worry. “You sure you don't want some dinner before you go?”

Jared wants to answer that question screaming so obviously from Jensen's eyes, but he's afraid to say anything more. Once he gets started, he's sure he won't be able to stop. Wrapping his arms around Jensen's waist, he tugs him closer and takes a minute to breathe, to feel the things that Jensen always makes him feel, the things that usually calm him down, settle him. 

“I really do have to get back to the office. I just wanted to give Danneel the news in person,” he finally says.

Jensen pulls back and meets Jared's eye with a soft smile. “You're an alright guy, Padalecki.” 

Another spike of guilt shoots down Jared's spine, but he silences it with a quick kiss. “You need to get back inside. We had a deal, remember?” He raises an eyebrow and gives Jensen a quick squeeze. “I find the answers, you help her deal.”

Jensen takes a slight step back, not yet letting go of Jared. “I'm on it,” he says, saluting. He presses another kiss to Jared's chin. “Love you.”

Jared says, “I love you, too,” and watches Jensen job back into the house. At least he can rest easy in knowing that's not a lie, either.

  


Being as Jared's business requires a deep level of confidentiality, he doesn't talk to anyone outside his company about his cases. It's easier to avoid any temptation to spill even the smallest detail. There is one exception, when the situation is really murky, the spot between the rock and hard place too tight to escape on his own. So he calls the person who helped get him into this in the first place, paces his living room while he waits for a voice on the other end of the phone.

“Could it be? Is this actually my prodigal son?” his mother answers on the second ring.

Jared smiles, shoulders slumping as he pictures his mother in her all of her Bohemian glory, hair probably woven with wildflowers at this moment. It usually is anyway. “Hey, Momma,” he says, unexpected emotion catching in his throat. It's been too long since he bothered to get back to her.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your time, Jare-bear?”

“Alright, I get it,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “I don't call enough, you never hear from me. I do send emails. Gimme a little credit.”

His mother huffs. He can almost see her face twisting in disgust through the line. “Emails are for people you have neither the time nor inclination to speak to. They are never going to be enough for your mother. Have I taught you nothing?”

“Alright, alright. I'm sorry,” Jared says with a laugh. It's moments like these that make him wonder why he doesn't call more often. 

Satisfied, she hums and asks, “What's on your mind, kiddo?” 

Jared can hear something crunching in the background. Who knows what it is. It could be anything from ceramic for her next mosaic to walnuts she's using in her newest granola concoction. Nothing is certain with his mother. 

Instead of asking about the sound, Jared says, “What, I can't just call to say hi? It's been awhile.”

“I may only hear your voice once in a blue moon, but I know it, Jared,” she says with a disgruntled huff.

Mothers. “I was wondering about something,” he finally admits. “Back when you were helping me look for Chad, do you remember the day-,” he cuts off on another lump swelling in his throat. He doesn't talk about this. It's too damn hard to even think about it most of the time. “Do you remember how you felt when you found out he was dead?”

Jared's best friend through elementary and middle school, his right arm and other half and every other bad cliché through some of the most important years of his development, moved to Buffalo with his father when they were in the eighth grade. What happened after that is kind of a mystery, but Jared's mom is the one who found out that he had died from a cocaine overdose at age nineteen. She was the one who told him that the truth might hurt, but that it's important nonetheless. She taught him the importance of closure. 

“I'll never forget,” she answers after a brief pause, voice considerably more sober in an instant.

“Why didn't you just tell me that you couldn't find him?”

They've been over this before, but Jared needs to hear it again. He needs her reassurance more than he ever has, more than he did back then even.

“You needed answers. Jared, what's going on?”

The way she says his name, calls him Jared instead of baby or Jare-bear or – on the rare and painfully embarrassing occasion – sugar tits, tells him just how seriously she's taking this conversation now. It's a little disconcerting. “We had what I thought was a simple birth mother case and it turned into the worst case of my life,” he says. “She's looking for Jensen.”

“Jensen your boyfriend, Jensen?”

He bites back the sarcastic retort and simply answers, “Yeah,” as he falls into the recliner with a grunt.

“And I'm assuming you haven't told him about it yet?”

“I don't even think he knows he's adopted.”

“So now you've got a client who wants to find a kid who doesn't know she exists, along with some adoptive parents who have been lying to the man you're kinda stupidly crazy about his whole life?” She blows out a deep breath. “Man, that's heavy.”

“Thanks, Mom. That's really helpful.”

With a snort, she says, “Oh, I'm sorry. Let me reach into my ready-made list of answers and,” she pauses, “Nope. I got nothin' for ya, kid.”

Jared chuckles in spite of himself, rolls his head along the back of the chair, and blinks at the ceiling. “It's just. I'm going to upend his entire life with this.”

“How is that different from the other people you find?” she asks pointedly. “I mean, it's so rare when you find people who are actually searching for each other, baby boy. Someone's always caught off guard. Somebody's life is always changed forever.”

“Yeah, but I'm not in love with them,” Jared responds without hesitation.

She's silent for a while, considering, before she says, “Maybe that makes it better. I mean, Jensen has you there to help him through the fall out, right?”

“But I don't know how to do that part, Momma. I know how to find the truth. I don't deal with what comes next.” 

Even after Chad, Jared didn't really deal. He told himself that it was a long time ago, that the Chad he knew wasn't a user. He disconnected and forced it back. Dealing isn't Jared's strong suit.

“Well, maybe it's time you learn.” Sometimes Jared thinks her maternal instincts rival that of a door knob. “I mean, I love you, kid, but emotional openness isn't your strongest character trait. I know you care about finding the answers your clients are looking for, but maybe this gives you another layer of compassion.”

“I don't give a fuck about my job right now,” Jared snaps. “I care about Jensen.”

She clears her throat. “I know you do.” She stops again, as though trying to work out whether or not she should say any more. “When I told you about Chad, it was because I knew there was a good chance that you weren't going to stop looking until you found an answer. I wanted that answer to come from me. And I also knew that, if you were ever to figure out that I kept it from you, that would hurt you more than the truth would.”

“That's the problem, Momma. The birth mother stuff is whatever it is. He can say no to that and move around it, whatever. But finding out that his parents have been keeping this from him his whole life? It's going to shatter him.”

Jared can't stop thinking about the anniversary party, about the guy Jensen is in the presence of his family, about how completely this news is going to destroy all of that. His heart clenches tight in his chest when he realizes he's the one holding the hammer that will bring it all crashing down around Jensen and his parents.

His mother interrupts his thoughts with a soft, “Keeping it from him is going to shatter your relationship. I know you, son. You'll never be able to look him in the eye again if you know you're keeping something from him.”

“We've only been together for a little while. Maybe I can still walk away. Just extricate myself from his life all together.” Jared's stomach rolls just saying the words.

“Because that's clearly the right answer,” his mother says with just enough sarcasm to make Jared feel like a fool for suggesting it.

“I just think it would be easier.”

“No, you don't.”

No, he doesn't. “I love him, Momma. Maybe forever.”

“I know you do, baby. And both roads here may end in your heart getting broken. You don't have to draw me a diagram. I see the dilemma.” There's a warm smile in her words when she continues. “I know I haven't met Jensen yet, but I would like to think that he's the kind of guy who will realize none of this is your fault.”

Jared pushes himself out of the scrubs a hand over his face while sighing. “Yeah, well, he's not my mom so he doesn't really have to see the best in me at all times.”

His mom gives a rather unflattering snort. “You'd rather I start listing the worst in you? 'Cause believe you me, I remember some real humdingers. There was the head-shaving incident. Not your smartest moment. Or, I don't know, that time you flushed your sister's socks down the toilet and flooded the bathroom. Oh, remember when you spent that semester in college interning for that Republican senator? Jesus Christ, why do I love you again? Oh, right. Because I spent twenty-six hours pushing your gargantuan head and gigantic shoulders out of my body and still melted like ice cream in July when I saw your wrinkly, gunk-covered face.”

“Well, this has been an enlightening conversation,” Jared interrupts, remembering suddenly why he doesn't call more often. “But look at the time.”

She barks a sharp, short laugh in his ear. “Oh, I love you, son. And I know you're going to figure this out. And then come home as soon as you do, right?”

“Yes, Momma,” Jared answers flatly. 

She didn't really help him to decide much of anything, but Jared does feel better when he disconnects the call and settles down at his desk to process Natalie's file one more time.

  


The reasonable next step in this case nearly kills him. His heart is hammering in his throat when he knocks on the door, fingers drumming against his thighs as he waits for an answer. He has to do this, knows he won't rest until he does, but that doesn't mean he's not going to vomit where he stands in the meantime.

Thankfully, Donna answers the door with a bright smile before he has the chance. “Jared, hi.”

“Hi, Donna,” he says, unable to muster the same enthusiasm.

It resonates, her grin dimming just a little as she steps back to invite him into the house. “I assume you know Jensen isn't here.”

“He's sleeping at my place,” he answers dumbly. On the way over, this seemed like the only option. Now it seems like the worst idea he's ever had.

She fills in the blanks Jared's not rushing to fill himself. “So he doesn't know you're here, either.” She clears her throat and tilts her chin a little higher, visibly steeling herself. “Well, to what do I owe this unexpected surprise?”

“I know the truth.” 

What good is beating around the bush at this point?

Donna just blinks. “The truth about what?”

“About Jensen's adoption.”

Her eyes grow wide for a second before she composes herself defiantly. “He's my son.”

“I know that,” Jared concedes. “His birth mother is looking for him, though, and she came to my company to do that.”

Donna's shoulders fall with a heavy sigh. She leads Jared into the living room and motions for him to take a seat on the couch before lowering herself to the other end with all of the poise and grace Jared remembers from the party. “Honestly? I thought she'd come looking before now.”

The truth shouldn't feel so heavy in the pit of his stomach, but her unwillingness to deny anything sinks low and painful. “She's been looking for a while now. She just didn't have a lot to go on.”

“That's the way she wanted it. That's the way we all wanted it.”

In other cases, Jared would hear the adoptive parent out. He would try to see things from their perspective and offer at least a smile, even if he couldn't muster anything resembling sympathy. Jared has only met Jensen's mother one time; he can treat her like any other lead. 

Donna's eyes cut to Jared suddenly. “Have you told him?”

“I wouldn't be here if I had,” Jared tells her.

“What can I do to convince you not to?” she asks, folding her hands in her lap, the picture of propriety.

“I honestly don't know what I'm going to do.” Jared takes a deep breath and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He can try all day, but this is not any other case. “I need to know why you didn't tell him.”

“He was ours from that first day, not hers. He was never hers. She didn't want him.”

“Can you just start from the beginning for me? Please?”

For a long moment, Jared is convinced Donna is going to tell him to stay the hell away from her family. It wouldn't be the first time. 

Finally, she takes a deep breath and says, “We had been married for nine years, trying to get pregnant for about five, when the doctor suggested we should consider adoption. It was very hard for me to hear, but a woman in Bible study group gave me a book on the subject. It became very clear to me that we were to have children in that way instead of biologically.” She hesitates and blinks back a tear. “It felt like an eternity, going through the entire process and finding a mother that coordinated with our needs. And then we met him. We were the first ones to see him when he was born. He was ours from that very first day and we agreed that nothing was ever going to make him feel like he wasn't right where he belonged.”

Jared raises an eyebrow. “And you didn't think he might want to know someday?”

Her eyes are cold, narrowed and cutting, when she says, “There was no reason for him to know.”

“Is that why you left Austin as soon as he was born?”

She seems surprised that Jared has researched this so thoroughly, but she nods in time. “We didn't want him to be around anyone who might tell him something, no matter how accidentally. My husband said that we might tell him one day, but after we were blessed with Mackenzie, we took that option off the table.”

Because they never wanted Jensen to think that he didn't belong, that he was less than his sister in some way, they kept this enormous thing from him. They thought this was better. 

Jared’s stomach twists around a new possibility, rising into his throat as he looks at the family picture on the coffee table. “Does Mackenzie know?” 

“Oh, dear Lord, no!” When Donna looks horrified at the thought, it's encouraging in a way that Jared thinks it shouldn't be. “Any family that was old enough to know what was going on before Jensen was born, they know because there was just no way around that, but it was never spoken about after he was born.”

For a minute, Jared wonders if that's even possible. People always talk, especially about something as salacious as a secret adoption. It's the stuff of family legends. 

“I don't know what to do about this,” he finally says, staring at the ivory carpet, his brain reeling.

Spanning the gulf between them, Donna grips Jared's thigh with more force than it seems she should possess. “Jared, I know your business is reuniting families, but if you tell Jensen about this, you're going to rip this one apart.”

“I know.”

“I have never seen my son happier than he is with you,” she adds, as though trying a different tactic. Her desperation is palpable and incredibly sad. “Our family is happy and the two of you are happy, anyone can see that. Things are good for Jensen right now, his life is good. I'm asking you to please consider what knowing the truth is going to do to the man we love.”

In this moment, Jared pities and abhors her in equal measure. “Ya know, it would probably be better coming from you,” he suggests, not because he doesn't want to do it, but because he shouldn't have to. It's not his place to break this open; Jensen's parents should be the ones to tell him.

Donna withdraws her hand and makes her way to her feet, smoothing her hands over her perfectly-pressed slacks. “I'm sorry, Jared, but you know that I can't do that. This is the best thing for my family and I am trusting that you will respect that. I can pay you, if that will help. Just name your price and we'll all go back to pretending this never happened. Jensen doesn't need to know anything about this. He can't ever know.”

Her desperation breaks Jared's heart. His stomach churns with the weight of the reality; she would rather pay him to keep her secret than tell her son the truth. “I don't know what I'm going to do here and I don't know how this is going to play out. I do know that I don't want your money or anything else from you. Jensen is the only one I care about here.”

He shows himself out of the house, anger and sadness settling deep in his bones as he walks to his car. He believes Donna, believes that she's doing what she thinks is best for her family. He's just not sure he agrees. He's not sure of anything anymore.

  


It feels like drowning, this attempt to grasp anything solid while it rushes between his fingers and pulls him under every time. Jared is grasping at anything that might keep him afloat, anything that might keep his damn mouth shut, but it's getting harder every day. Jensen slips into his bed every night, wants to talk about the events of the day and every other thing that passes through his head, but Jared can see the concern behind his eyes. In Jared's attempt to keep from saying the wrong thing, he says nothing and they're drifting further and further from the warm comfort that surrounded them a week ago.

Pinning Jensen to the bed, sucking deep bruises into his collarbone while working his jeans open, is easier. Using his mouth to make Jensen moan, beg, and cry to a myriad of deities is so much safer than sharing their thoughts and feelings.

Wriggling in Jared's hold, writhing under his fingers, Jensen gasps and asks, “What is up with you tonight?”

“What's wrong with being into you?” Jared mumbles against Jensen's nipple.

“Nothing,” Jensen answers on a sharp, panted laugh. “Believe me, you can be as far in me as you wanna be.”

Jared rubs over Jensen's underwear, teasing and testing the shape of his cock as it grows against Jared's palm. “Then shut up and quit complaining,” he orders, nipping at the skin below Jensen's armpit.

“I'm not complaining,” Jensen insists. “You've just been kind of crazy lately.”

“Maybe I just miss you.”

Jensen hisses as Jared's hand slips into his underwear and skims the hard length of his cock. “Fuck.”

For the next three hours, during more orgasms than Jared thought possible in one night, Jensen lets it go. Jared finally allows himself to relax when Jensen collapses at his side, eyes drifting in the sated afterglow. Maybe this is the answer he's been looking for all along. He'll just fuck Jensen stupid for the rest of their lives, until neither of them can speak. That seems feasible.

“Please tell me that wasn't what it felt like.” Jensen wears a mask of sheer fear when Jared rolls his head against the pillow to spare him a glance. “I know what break up sex feels like, Jared.”

Jared's eyes widen, heart hammering in his chest as the relaxed feeling he just had gets swallowed up in overwhelming panic. “What? Jensen, I'm not breaking up with you!”

But Jensen struggles to sit in the bed, leaning against the headboard with a sad shake of his head. “I'm not a fucking idiot. I've seen it coming for a while now.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“This is not the stage in a relationship when you get too busy for your fucking boyfriend. Not all of the sudden.”

It is when you’re researching the adoption your boyfriend doesn’t know he was a part of three decades ago. Jared doesn’t say that. Instead, he opts for, “Why don’t you try trusting me a little, okay? I’m fine. I said I’m fine.”

“I’m not,” Jensen interjects, resting his hand on Jared’s leg. His fingers play nimbly with the soft hairs on Jared’s thighs. “This thing with you and me is supposed to be different. It works because it’s different. Once he starts becoming every other relationship I’ve ever had, I can’t stick around.”

It’s not an ultimatum. The crack in Jensen’s voice, the averted eyes, and the trembling fingers against Jared’s skin tell him that this isn’t some idle threat, either. This is Jensen telling Jared what he needs. This is a plea for Jared to kick down the rest of the wall between them and just let Jensen in completely. If only Jensen knew what he was asking.

“I can’t,” he starts and then captures his bottom lip between his teeth. This is like choosing between the rock and the hard place. Does Jared want to kill Jensen with the truth, or would he rather do it with a lie? 

Jensen sighs and leans back, head rolling against the headboard as he studies the ceiling. “Please, Jared,” he tries one more time, voice barely above a whisper. 

Fucking hell. Even though Jared knew it would lead to this, that the decision was going to have to be made eventually, he didn’t bother preparing himself for it. He doesn’t know how to do this at all.

“Wait here, okay?” he says, rolling off of the bed and searching the floor for his jeans. This is not a conversation they should be having naked.

He heads to his office, chest clenching and stomach rolling, retrieves the file folder hidden in his top desk drawer, and starts back to the bedroom. A voice in the back of his head repeats Jensen's phrase - _break up sex_ \- with each step. This is it. In order to convince Jensen that he's not breaking up with him, he's going to have to break the guy's heart. 

Fucking hell.

Jensen paces the floor at the foot of Jared's bed, fully dressed and worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. His hand scrubs hard at the back of his neck as he studies the ceiling. When Jared enters, Jensen gives him a pleading look that almost changes Jared's mind.

Exhaling, Jared runs a hand over his face. “Aldis is working this case with a woman named Natalie. She gave her son up for adoption at birth and now she wants to find him.”

“What?” Jensen bites, anxious like he's caged.

“It was you,” Jared blurts. “The kid she gave up for adoption was you.”

The words hang there for a second before Jensen laughs, loud and nervous. “Seriously? That's what you've been thinking about? Jared, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Aldis is not very good at his job.”

Taking a few more steps into the room, Jared offers Jensen the folder. “I thought the same thing, wanted that to be true so badly, you can't even imagine.” When Jensen doesn't move, doesn't take the folder, Jared sets it on the end of the bed. “I'm going to go make coffee.”

Maybe he should stick around, try to get Jensen to see the truth, to make him talk about it. He doesn't know what else to say, though. He's not even sure where he would start, what could possibly make it better. He just delivered the death blow to the best relationship he's ever had. He feels like Lex Luthor.

Nearly an hour passes before Jensen appears in the kitchen doorway, folder in his hand and a blank expression on his face. “I wish you hadn't told me,” is all he says as he drops the folder onto the table in front of Jared. 

“I have to believe that the truth is important,” Jared says, though it feels more like he's trying to convince himself at this point. 

“Everything's not so goddamn black and white.” Jensen takes his keys from the counter, a wounded and defeated expression on his face. “I gotta get outta here.”

The slam of the door behind Jensen echoes hard, final, inside Jared's head.

  


For the first time since starting his own business nearly ten years ago, Jared calls in sick on Tuesday morning. He can't make his body roll out of his bed, can't make his brain and his legs work in tandem. All he can do is lie there on his back, staring at the ceiling, replaying the conversation with Jensen about a thousand times. He goes back over the meetings with Jensen's mom and Natalie, with everything Aldis showed him, all of the contents of that stupid file scrolling like a slide show through his brain.

He fights like hell to slot all of the information into place, to make it fit, but it's all jumbled and wrong. He stuffs the belief that the truth is always the right thing into that void, but it just rattles around like it's too small or too round in the square space. 

How does telling Jensen the truth about Natalie help anything at all?

It doesn't. The answer is that he has done nothing to help anyone in this situation. Jensen now knows that his parents have lied to him for his entire life. He also knows that there is a woman out there who gave birth to him, who wants to meet him and talk to him, that he never knew existed before yesterday. He has a brother to think about. His mom and dad now have to explain to Jensen and Mackenzie why they kept this secret. Natalie has to deal with knowing that her son doesn't want to have anything to do with her. Nobody has benefited from the truth even a little bit.

  


Misha shows up with take-out and a judgmental expression on day two of Jared's self-imposed exile.

“Thought maybe you might be getting lonely,” he says, shoving the brown paper bag into Jared's stomach.

“Not really,” Jared answers, turning away from the door to wander back into the living room and flop down in the center of the couch with his lunch.

Misha either doesn't care that Jared is ignoring him, or he's just not going to let it happen. He follows, takes his place in the recliner, and easily folds his hands against his stomach. “Aldis told me what happened.”

“What? That I fucked everything up?” Jared asks, running his hand through his greasy hair. He should probably shower, but it takes effort and Jared hasn't had the will to put any in for the last forty-eight hours.

“You did what you thought was the right thing.”

“I thought wrong,” Jared says on a snort. “I had a rule, ya know? Don't date a client. It wasn't that hard to follow. I did it for years!”

“You need to loosen your grip.” It's hard to tell if Misha is frustrated, amused, or disgusted by Jared right now. It's hard to care regardless. “No situation is fucking uniform, Jared. Life doesn't just follow rules and no two people are ever going to fit into the same little box. Of course your business has rules and policies to help things run more smoothly. It should. But people aren't cookie dough. You can't just roll them out and cut them all uniformly. Sometimes your rules have to be bent, if not broken all together.”

“That sounds like justification.”

“Maybe,” Misha says, nodding in concession. “Or maybe it's common sense.”

In an attempt to keep his eyes from meeting Misha's, Jared sits forward and starts unpacking the bag of food that he has no interest in eating. “Yeah, well none of it changes the fact that I totally fucked Jensen's life all up and I can't fix it.”

“This job isn't about making people happy. It's about giving them the truth. Isn't that what you always tell me?”

Misha damn well knows that this isn't about the rules of the job, but arguing that is only going to prove that Jared understands there has to be a difference. Even if he does, he's not going to give Misha the satisfaction of admitting it. 

Instead, he says, “You know what the worst part of this whole fucked up thing is? I love him,” Jared admits. “I should be there for him through something like this and I can't be because I'm the one that caused it. I mean, who's he going to turn to? Danneel? She's dealing with her own shit right now, also courtesy of me. I waited until he was totally vulnerable and then I stabbed the truth right through his tender underbelly.”

Grabbing a carton of noodles from the table, Misha leans back in his chair and considers Jared thoughtfully. “You give yourself way more credit than you deserve. You're not a fucking super villain.”

“Don't kid yourself, Mish,” Jared says with a heavy sigh. “I just destroyed the entire world.”

Like the great friend that he is, Misha rolls his eyes. “Good lord, you're a fucking drama queen.” He nods toward the food and adds, “Stop being ridiculous. Eat and take a shower, man. You smell disgusting”

  


When he does go back to work, his staff gives Jared a pretty wide berth. They keep to themselves, only bringing him information that he specifically asks for, coming and going without so much as a knock on his office door. Normally it would bother him, but if he doesn't have to paste the happy face on right now, so much the better.

It's been almost a week since Jensen walked out of Jared's house and even the smallest things are proving difficult. Why does everything have to remind him of Jensen now?

He stands in the produce section at the supermarket for a full five minutes, staring at the bell peppers, just thinking about that time he and Jensen argued over whether the red or yellow were sweeter, and whether that made them better or worse. 

“Jared?”

At the sound of his voice, Jared looks up, blinking at the petite blond gripping a small basket as she offers a nervous, little smile. “Hey, Mac,” he finally says when he finds his tongue again.

She tucks her hair behind her ear and forces a short laugh. “Hey. I, uh, I think social protocol dictates that I owe you a punch to the face right now.”

Because he deserves that, Jared nods. “You wanna do it here? There's plenty of people so it'll be good and humiliating.”

Her expression relaxes and softens, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Much as I would have loved to a week ago, I don't think it would help much, ya know?” 

She tilts her head, considering him more intently. Jared squirms under her gaze, his skin prickling as he wonders what she sees. The dark circles under his eyes probably jump out first. The way he can't force himself to smile at all has to be pretty obvious, too. Genevieve tells him that he's not doing such a great job of holding everything together; Jared wonders if she's right at the moment.

“Well, I should probably-,” Mackenzie trails off, pointing over her shoulder, and then thinks better of it. “Ya know, just for the record or whatever, he's always kind of been like this. When the big stuff goes down, he kind of hides until he figures out how to compartmentalize and deal with everything. He doesn't stay hidden forever, though.”

It's hard to talk to Jensen's sister about any of this, hard not to ask if Jensen’s doing alright, if he's taking care of himself, if he's going to make it through this thing. The words are clunky in Jared's head – he doesn't know how they would sound out loud – so he bites them back and says, “I don't blame him for being pissed at me.”

For the first time, Mackenzie takes a step toward him, her eyes warm and friendly. “Jared, you couldn't hide it from him.”

“It works alright for your parents.”

“Please,” Mackenzie huffs. “My father works eighty hours a week and has a chronic heart condition. He never makes eye contact, never gets too close to anyone. And my mother, bless her heart, has suffered from tension migraines for as long as I can remember. She puts on a happy face for her church friends and everything, but she lives on anti-anxiety medication when she thinks nobody's looking. Sure, they're dealing, but at what cost?”

While it's probably supposed to be encouraging, the information just makes Jared want to get the hell out of this situation as quickly as he can. He shouldn't be privy to Jensen's family drama anymore. 

He's still thinking of a smooth way to extricate himself from the conversation when Mackenzie reaches out to rest a hand on his arm. “Don't give up on him yet, okay?” She winks conspiratorially and squeezes his wrist. “When hope is all you have, you find that hope is all you need, right?”

That's Jared's company motto, the tagline on all their billboards and print ads, Genevieve's brain child. It's not inaccurate or anything, but it sounds strange in this context.

“It's your Twitter bio,” Mackenzie explains with a wink before giving his arm another squeeze and then turning tail to leave him alone in front of the peppers once more.

It sounds so simple in a catchy little phrase like that - _hope_ \- but Jared's finding it really difficult in practice these days.

  


It's been more than a year since Jared headed back to San Antonio to visit his parents. They're great and he misses them when he's in Austin, but he works a lot. Besides, they don't share a lot of common interests or anything. Even in college, he wasn't much for running back home every weekend; his mom's not much of a cook and he's been doing his own laundry since he was in junior high.

This trip was supposed to be fun, though. It was supposed to be endless hours of showing Jensen around the places Jared grew up, sharing nostalgic stories and introducing him to the people who somehow managed to shape Jared into the exact antithesis of themselves.

It's been three weeks since he watched Jensen walk out of the kitchen. Not even hundreds of miles of distance does much to drive that image from Jared's mind.

He's sitting on the back porch steps, staring out over the two acres of lush yard behind his parents' house. His dad's art studio sits at the back of the lot, right next to the shack that houses his mother's typewriter. Now that Jared and his siblings are out of the house, there's plenty of room for them to move both operations upstairs, but they still, after thirty-two years of marriage, think it's cool to leave the house and walk to work together, hand-in-hand. 

He's not sure how long he sits there before his mom finds him, sinking into the space between Jared's hip and the edge of the stairs. She flicks a lighter to the end of the joint between her fingers and takes a puff before she asks, “You ready to talk about it,” and passes to Jared.

He just shakes his head in response to both. 

“You gonna do it anyway?” she asks, nudging him with a shoulder.

Jared returns his attention to the back yard, where his father either has some kind of stinging insect in his shorts or is performing a rain dance. It's hard to tell with Jared's dad. 

“Do I have a choice?” he finally asks his mom.

She takes another hit and holds it for a second before tilting her head in Jared's direction. “You ever notice how we only speak to each other in questions?”

Jared smiles when he answers, “Do we?”

“Smartass.”

“I learned it from watching you.”

“I'm an awesome role model,” she says, nodding in affirmation.

With a heavy sigh, Jared finally admits, “I miss him, Mom.”

“You try talking to him?” she asks, breathing thick, sweet smoke against Jared's cheek.

“He needs some space right now.”

“And you know that because you've talked to him, right?”

Defensively, Jared finally turns to meet her eye. “What the hell am I supposed to do? He hasn't returned the voicemails I've left. What, do you want me to camp out on his front lawn or something?”

“Your father and I got a great deal on a two-person sleeping bag last summer. You're welcome to borrow it if you'd like.”

Jared knows his parents well enough to know that he absolutely would not like to borrow anything they have shared while camping, thanks. “A thousand times no.”

“Listen, all Jensen knows right now is what he's feeling, not what he needs. He's thinking with a mangled and bleeding heart. He doesn't know yet that what he desperately needs is for you to come alongside him and help him heal that hurt.”

She tucks her hand around his bicep and snuggles closer to Jared's side. It takes him back to all of the sexual confusion he dealt with in high school, to her unwavering, if not somewhat unconventional, support even then. It's nice.

“Let me ask you this: If Dad came home and told you that he'd been having an affair with some other woman for the last thirty years, would he be the one you wanted helping you fix your heart? When he's the one who broke it in the first place?”

“There's a fly in your analogy ointment, son.” She pauses to shakes her long hair out of her eyes. “Here's a better one: If your father breaks a lamp in the living room and then, instead of cleaning it up, he turns the light out and spends the next thirty years guiding everyone away from the living room so they won't see the mess, then you come along and turn the light on, is it your fault that the lamp is broken?”

It takes Jared more than a second to wrap his head around her example. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asks, brow furrowed.

“You're blaming yourself for something you didn't do, Kiddo.” She teases the frayed edges of a hole in Jared's jeans as she speaks. “You didn't betray him. Yeah, you told him something he didn't want to hear. You shined that light on the mess that was already there, but you didn't make the mess in the first place.”

“I think that's a matter of semantics right now.”

His mother nods in concession. “Sure, for now. It's raw right now. Eventually, though, the swelling is going to go down and he's going to need someone there to help him treat and dress the wound. He needs to know that you're going to be the one to do that, that you won't just leave him with this gaping wound, bleeding out all over himself.”

Jared grabs the joint from her fingers and takes his own hit. Sometimes, being high is the only way to approach a conversation with his mother. “I know you're a poet, Mom, but you're really not good at it.”

She gives a soft, offended huff and smacks his arm. “Metaphors are not just for poets, Jared. They're also a mom thing.”

“I think it's a pot thing,” he teases, handing the joint back to her as he stares over the yard again.

“That is also a strong possibility.”

  


Jared loves his parents dearly, but there are only so many straight days he can take with them before he's itching to get out of the house and eat something that bleeds.

His sister is sitting on the floor of her shop, a small jewelry and handbag storefront she's been renting since she graduated from college a few years ago. She is surrounded by what seems like a thousand plastic bags, sorting them into piles by size when Jared steps through the door. 

“You busy?” he asks, smiling wider when she yips and jumps off of the floor, nearly tripping over her floor-length skirt in her haste to reach him.

“You're here!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

Sometimes it's hard to remember that she's not his twelve-year-old kid sister anymore when she claps her hands and giggles. “You look good, Meggles.”

“This is my store,” she says, turning on her heels and sweeping her arms wide. “Jared, I have my own business.”

“It's really fantastic. I'm so proud of you.” 

She beams at him as the bell over the door rings again, and then rushes off to greet the middle-aged women who just came in. When she returns, Jared asks, “You wanna grab some lunch?”

“Yeah, of course. My afternoon help should be here in about fifteen minutes.”

Jared helps her with the bags, moving the piles into the back workroom while Megan answers questions from the customers out front. He stops next to a spread of brightly colored beads and wonders how it is that the artistic gene passed him by all together. 

“So, how much time do we have?” Megan interrupts his thoughts, breezing into the room to grab a denim jacket from a hook near the back door. 

Shrugging, Jared follows her out the back door and onto the street. “My dance card's open all day, unless Dad calls to take me fly fishing or something.” He's pretty familiar with this part of town, but if she wants to pick the destination, Jared is happy to pay. Honestly, he's just happy to be away from his mother's pitying and worried looks. 

“Flyfishing is Tuesdays,” Megan informs him. “Thursday nights are his drum circle.”

“Of course they are.”

“And if he invites you to that, you wanna make sure you say no. A thousand times. Emphatically.” When Jared chuckles, she turns to him with wide eyes. “Believe me, Jared. Seven naked men, one of whom is your father, taking herbal hallucinogens and pounding djembes for four hours? I know it sounds like a good time, but it's really, really not.”

Jesus, sometimes Jared wonders if _he's_ adopted. That joke isn't as funny as it used to be.

They fill the rest of the trek to the sandwich shop with idle chatter. Megan tells him about the craft book she's currently writing and Jared catches her up on Genevieve and Aldis, the only friends of his shes' ever met. 

She waits until they've gotten their food and found a seat to ask, “So, you wanna talk about it?”

“Nope,” Jared answers around a mouth full of roast beef.

“Jared.”

“Let's talk about you instead.”

“No,” Megan insists with a firm shake of her head. “Every time we talk about me, you end up going all hulk smash for no reason.”

Jared winks at her. “If you made better life choices, I wouldn't have to.” Megan flips him off as inconspicuously as she can, drawing a hearty laugh that feels good in Jared's chest. “Do we need to revisit the Sid and Nancy obsession from college?”

“Sure,” she agrees with a wicked grin. “Right after we talk about the D&D phase of your freshman year in high school.” When Jared raises his hands in surrender, she asks, “How do you keep a secret like that from your own kid for three decades?”

“Megan.”

She shoots him pleading, puppy dog eyes. “No judgment. I just don't get how that even happens.” She takes a bite of a potato chip and then adds, “Of course, it's not really anything we'd ever have to worry about. Mom can't keep a secret for shit.”

“And Dad would have to tell you all about it after he painted it into some abstract art piece, because you just wouldn't be able to understand it on your own,” Jared tags, smiling at the mere thought of his parents trying to keep that kind of secret from anyone.

With a shake of her head, Megan says, “Our family is so fucking weird.”

Jared can't help thinking that it's kind of perfect, though. Just like Jensen used to think his was.

  


Spending a week at home with his family was nice, but real life is waiting in Austin when Jared returns. A part of him resents the fact that Jensen hasn't made an effort to pick up a fucking phone in the last month, but Genevieve pointed out that Jared could also drive over to the bar and just make the guy talk to him. Jared tells himself that he can't do that because it's unprofessional and he's not going to drag their personal lives into Jensen's workplace. The truth is that he's scared to death Jensen just doesn't want to see him.

After thirty-three days, shouldn't it be getting easier to breathe? 

He's working through a pile of mail on his second day back in the office when there is a soft knock at his office door. Jared looks up and allows himself a smile, even as his heart hammers in his chest. “Hey, Danneel,” he greets, pushing the mail to the side.

“Hey, stranger,” she says, shutting the door behind her as she crosses to the chair opposite Jared's desk. “I wasn't sure if you'd wanna see me.”

“You're welcome here any time,” he assures her, wondering immediately what Jensen has told her about their apparent break-up. 

Danneel nods and then hesitates, her eyes darting around Jared's office and landing on the book shelf behind him. The smile that she gives, no matter how subconsciously, tells him that she's found the picture of him and Jensen at the street fair she took them to a few months ago. Jensen is wearing sunglasses and Mardi Gras beads, his tee shirt tucked into his back pocket. Jared is holding a stuffed unicorn that Jensen insisted on buying from a little girl at one of the booths. He remembers laughing when Jensen wrapped both arms around his neck and pulled Jared's face down to lick a fat, wet stripe along his cheek. It's not at all work appropriate, but Jared will take it down the next time he meets with a client in his office. Until then, it's the most Jensen-like picture of Jensen he has.

Clearing her throat, Danneel tightens her ponytail and says, “I wanna meet him.”

Him? “Your brother?” Jared asks for clarification.

First, Danneel nods and hums her agreement. Then she tilts her head and adds, “And also John Hamm. I mean, there's probably less chance of him breaking my heart as I already realize I have less than zero chance of any kind of relationship with him at all, but yeah. My brother, I wanna meet him.”

Jared smiles in spite of himself. He's spent so much time thinking about how much he misses Jensen; he forgot to miss Danneel, too. “Are you sure?” he asks, leaning forward to clasp his hands against the desk.

“Yes, I'm sure,” she insists. “I've had this conversation with Jensen a hundred times in the last six weeks. I'm fucking sure.”

Jared nods. “Alright then. I'll make the contact and let you know how it goes.”

“Thanks.” She leans back in her seat and releases a heavy breath that, from the looks of her widening eyes, she didn't realize she was holding. Tapping her thumbs against her stomach, she hesitates and then says, “He misses you, ya know?”

“Who? John Hamm?”

“No, funny man. He's not sure how to let you know, but he misses the hell out of you.”

Jared wants to respond. He wants to say that Jensen should call then or at least answer when Jared does, but Jared hasn't been calling lately. He wants to say that he'll stop by and see Jensen after work, but he knows that he won't. He wants to admit that he's terrified he may never see Jensen again because he can't figure out how to get over himself and make it happen. So he follows his own protocol and says nothing.

Danneel picks up the slack. “He needs someone to be something that I can't be for him.”

Jared releases a long, defeated breath. “I'm not sure he wants that person to be me.”

“That person has to be you, Jared,” she says with far more confidence than Jared feels. Leaning forward, she covers his hand with hers, no longer the client. “Do you still wanna be with him?”

Jared lets out a long, shaky breath before answering. “Of course I do. I just. Danneel, I don't know what to say to him. I don't do this part, this after-care thing. I don't know how.”

“So figure it out,” is her response, her brow crinkled in confusion as she pushes out of the chair and stands in front of his desk. “Nobody on the planet knows how to do and say the exact right thing in every fucking situation. That's what makes us human, dumb ass. We try and we fuck things up and we adapt. There's no manual. You just ask him what he needs and then you try to do it.” She walks to the door and then turns. “Do you know why Jensen is my best friend, Jared?”

Jared thinks about cracking a joke, but it doesn't feel funny at all right now, so he just shakes his head. 

“He's there. No matter what he has going on in his own life, he's there for me when I need him. It's not about having the right words. It's about showing up.”

  


Danneel's brother is a six-foot-five-inch brute who goes by the name Junior, with broad shoulders, a thick neck, and kind eyes. He makes even Jared feel diminutive when they meet up in the park a few days later. He seems kind of nervous, but not dangerous. In fact, he's downright hospitable when he shakes Jared's hand and leads him to a bench near a small pond in the center of the park.

“So, you said this is about a family matter.”

Jared nods and spreads one arm over the back of the bench. He already explained a little bit about what he does over the phone, so he doesn't bother with any small talk. “Your sister, Danneel, has been looking for you for a very long time, Junior. She would like to meet you, if that's okay with you.”

“Danni?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper as tears immediately spring to his eyes. “Are you kidding me?”

Jared shakes his head. “She has a lot of questions for you.”

“Is she,” Junior stops himself and scrubs a hand over his face before turning hopeful eyes on Jared. “Is she okay?”

“She's doing very well for herself. She has a good job and a house, a great roommate, but she wants to know her big brother.” There's only so much Jared is comfortable sharing with Junior, so much more that should be Danneel's to tell him. “She has a picture of you, but not a lot of memories.”

At that information, Junior snorts. “I'm not surprised. Her mom was not my biggest fan.” Without further prodding, Junior continues to lay the story out for Jared. “My dad didn't even tell her I existed when they got married. They were probably the most toxic couple ever, to be honest. He was a drinker and she had this insane temper and they just lit each other up like dynamite, ya know? After the divorce, every time he would drink, he would tell me these crazy stories about the fights they had. I don't even know if they were all true, but they were pretty scary to a kid.”

When he stops, loses himself in the memories, Jared prods, “What about your mom, Junior?”

Junior wipes the back of his hand across his eyes and squints into the sun as he continues. “She dropped me off on their porch when I was four. Just pinned a note to my shirt that basically said I was his problem now. He'd only been married to Sheila for about a year and she hated hearing about his past. One of those people who just preferred to think that his life started when he met her, ya know?” He coughs a short, sarcastic laugh and shakes his head. “Danni was only a couple months old. Cutest thing I'd ever seen, though. I'd never really had anyone to play with and, even though she didn't really do much at first, I was obsessed with her. Her mom hated that.”

Jared's heart twists as he visualizes a lonely, abandoned little boy in a new home like that. A father he doesn't really know and a step-mother who doesn't want him, drinking and fighting and ignoring him all the time, that's sad enough. He can imagine those kids in that picture Danneel showed him months ago, the little boy who was so happy and proud to be holding that curly-haired girl, the only person in his life who was glad to see him walk into a room. The fact that their parents ripped them apart before Danneel was old enough to even remember Junior breaks Jared's heart.

“They split just before Danni's second birthday. Sheila threatened him, told him if either of us ever tried to contact them, she would kill us both. I'm not sure she was exaggerating.” He shakes his head again and shoots Jared a wry smile. “I could probably take her now, but not when I was four.”

Jared smiles back. “Did you ever try to find her? When you got older, I mean?”

Junior shakes his head. “I wasn't exactly the best kid, ya know? Got into a lotta trouble, partied too hard in high school, spent some time in jail. For a long time, I just figured she was better off wherever she was. Even after I straightened myself out and got my life turned around, it seemed like some weird pipe dream or something. I only knew her for a little bit when I was really young, but the weirdest shit will make me think of her again, ya know?”

Nodding, Jared pats Junior's back and offers him a sympathetic smile. “She'll love to hear that,” he assures him.

“Do you think she'll mind if I bring my daughter with me? I mean, I'd love for my Mia to meet her aunt Danni,” Junior says suddenly.

It takes everything Jared has not to tear up himself at that. Danneel insists that she's not a baby person, but Jared has seen the way she grins when they see the little girls in her neighborhood playing together. She's going to love having a niece. Jensen is a great support system for her, but Jared has seen enough reunions by now to know that sometimes you need more than one person can provide. 

It's a thought that strikes him harder in this moment than it ever has.

  


Genevieve's eyes dart around the bar like she's watching some sort of ping pong tournament. If this is her definition of normal, Jared doesn't want to see 'weird.'

He doesn't get a chance to call her on it, before Jensen is sauntering over to them, towel tossed over his shoulder and a warm smile aimed straight at Genevieve. “What can I get ya, beautiful?” he asks, as though Jared's not even there.

“You can start with your roommate's phone number,” she says blatantly.

“I'm sorry, what?” 

Jared clears his throat. “She met Danneel in the office the other day. Apparently, she's seen her around a few times, but getting a close-up view sent her over the edge.”

“Danneel came to see you?” Jensen asks in a voice that is filled to the brim with dread.

“About her brother,” Jared clarifies. “And John Hamm.” He doesn't add the, _and a little bit about you._

Jensen rolls his eyes at that. “I told her she should see someone about that obsession, but I meant a shrink, not you,” he teases, smile softening a little.

Finally, Jared feels his shoulders relaxing. “Hey, Jensen,” he says, as though they're just seeing each other for the first time. After five weeks, it almost feels like that first day all over again. 

“Hi, Jay,” Jensen answers with a teasing, knowing smirk.

Tapping her hand against the bar, Genevieve backs off of her stool and says, “And that is my cue.” She pats Jared's shoulder and heads further down the bar to get her drink.

“Her cue for what?” Jensen asks.

“Walking away once she's convinced you're not going to punch me in the mouth.”

Jared's stomach flips when Jensen's smile grows into something more genuine and open than it was. He still doesn't speak, but he doesn't look like he's about to run for cover either, so Jared considers it a win.

Taking the advice of, well, pretty much everyone he knows, Jared decides to go for an honest approach. “Look, I don't know what I'm supposed to say here.”

Jensen nods, but again, says nothing. 

Jared's not actually used to Jensen being speechless and he's most certain that he does not like it. “On a scale of one to ten, how pissed are you?” He's going for light, but his tone falls miserably short.

Sighing, Jensen leans forward on the bar, his face a little closer than Jared thinks he can handle right now. Pulling the guy over the top and into his lap, right here in Jensen's place of work, is not a great idea, right? It doesn't stop Jared from wanting it so badly he can almost taste one of Jensen's deep, toe-curling kisses.

“I wanna be,” Jensen finally answers, his eyes finding Jared's and holding them for the first time in what seems like an eternity. They're searching, looking for answers Jared isn't sure he has, but they're focused and intense. Whether or not he finds what he's looking for in Jared, Jared is going to enjoy the intimacy of it at least. 

The spell is broken when someone calls to Jensen from the other end of the bar. Pushing back to stand up straight, Jensen says, “I gotta get back to work. It was good to see you, Jared.”

 _When hope is all you have, you'll find that hope is all you need._ The last of Jared's hope trails after Jensen's retreating form. He showed up, like Danneel said he should, and it's not enough.

  


The alarm clock next to the bed says that it's after two when Jared hears the front door opening. He's out of bed, dressed only in pajama pants and carrying a baseball bat, in about three seconds. His heart is slamming against his throat as he creeps down the hall. He nearly pees himself when he hears a voice cringing and cursing in the living room.

Jared reaches for the light switch, jumping a little when he finds Jensen rubbing his shin next to the armchair. “What the hell are you doing?” he demands, clutching at his chest with one hand and the bat with the other.

Jensen barely looks up, hissing his answer through gritted teeth. “You moved your fucking furniture, asshole.”

It's true Jared rearranged the living room. He had to do something with that first weekend after Jensen left, something other than watching romantic comedies and crying into a giant tub of ice cream. Which he absolutely did not want to do, if anyone asks.

Propping the bat against the fireplace, Jared blinks the sleep from his eyes and watches as Jensen continues to rub his shin, lip caught between his teeth, eyes dancing with humor behind the frustration. 

“What are you doing here, Jensen?”

Shaking his injury off, Jensen stands and leans his weight against the chair. “I don't know. I was going to head home, but after I told Mac that you stopped in to see me, she threatened parts I'd rather she never touch if I didn't come over here.”

“Gotta love little sisters,” is Jared's thoughtful response. Mentally, he's making a note to send Mac a gift basket, but Jensen doesn't need to know that.

Suddenly, Jensen's eyes cloud over, cold and angry. “I don't wanna meet her, Jared. Not right now, maybe not ever.”

Jared just nods. The ball's in Jensen's court. He's the last person in the world Jared is going to push about meeting a family member, especially now. “I'll let her know tomorrow.” 

“Thanks,” Jensen says, as though he thought it would be harder than that to make Jared agree. “I mean, I'm sure she has her reasons or whatever. Seems like everybody does these days.” He sinks to the couch and drops his head back, runs his hands over his face and neck, before he says to the ceiling, “I've got a fucked-up enough family without her right now.”

As much as Jared wants to cross the room and sink into the spot beside Jensen, he's not sure he's allowed to yet. He knows what he would like Jensen's breaking into his house in the middle of the night to mean, but he has no way of knowing what it actually does mean. 

So he crosses his arms over his chest and says, “You don't have to justify it to me.”

Jensen lifts his head to look at Jared. “I'm not trying to. I just keep trying to talk to other people about it when I know that you're the only one I _want_ to talk to about it.” 

“Because I'm the professional?”

“Because I love you, idiot.” When Jared startles at the declaration, Jensen rolls his eyes and stands from the couch. “Jesus Christ, you're completely emotionally incompetent, aren't you?”

“I get why you were pissed,” Jared starts, his pulse quickening as Jensen crosses to him.

“And do you get why I'm not anymore?” Jensen asks, taking Jared's wrist in one hand, holding to it loosely enough for Jared to walk away if he wants.

Jared threads their fingers together, holding on as the memory of Jensen walking out of this house flashes through his mind for the ten-thousandth time. “I don't really care why you're not. I'm just glad you're not,” Jared finally answers.

“Oh, no. You are not getting out of this discussion that easily, my friend. Come on,” Jensen says, tugging on Jared's wrist to lead him back to the couch. Once they're seated side by side, hands still clenched against Jensen's thigh, Jensen winks and says, “We're gonna talk about our feelings now.”

Anxiety races through Jared's chest, but he fights the instinct to push Jensen away by wrapping his free hand around Jensen's neck. He plays with the soft hairs there, damp from the sweat of a good night's work, slipping under his fingers in a gentle rhythm. “I'm sorry I told you like I did,” he finally says. “Everyone keeps telling me that I did the right thing by telling you, but there was a better way to do it. I could have kept talking to your mom, or maybe your dad. It should have come from them, not me.”

Jensen nods, listens while Jared lets all of the things he hasn't said in his own defense to anyone else come tumbling out at Jensen's side. He's the only one that really needed to hear them anyway, and he needs to hear them now. “I'm sorry for not calling more, for giving you too much space, or maybe not enough? I don't know what I'm actually sorry for, Jensen, and I'm sorry for that, too. I'm sorry that I don't fucking know how to talk about this shit, that I never know the right thing to say. I hate that I haven't been what you need me to be.”

“Are you done?” Jensen asks when Jared finally takes a breath. He leans forward, presses his forehead to Jared's. “You're right, I was pissed about some of that stuff for awhile. Apology accepted, but I walked out on you. You made an effort and I shut you out, so that shit's on me, okay? I'm sorry for not returning your calls and giving you every reason to feel like you'd done the exact wrong thing.”

While it's nice to purge their sins and absolve each other, the apologies still make Jared uncomfortable. Maybe this is what other couples do, but he's not sure he's ever going to be okay with it. Of course, it needs to be said, but he's kind of hoping they'll find other ways to get the message across because he's honestly not sure if he can handle this every time they get into a fight.

Maybe it's the way they sit in silence for a while, just rubbing their palms together, twisting their fingers up, and staring into each other's eyes, but Jared hears himself blurting, “I love you,” before he can stop himself. 

When Jensen smiles, Jared chooses to believe it's because he likes hearing the words, not because he's mocking the blush Jared can feel rising in his neck and cheeks. Jensen presses a kiss to the corner of Jared's jaw and whispers, “I love you, too,” against his hear, sending a wash of heat all the way to Jared's hairline. 

In an attempt to make things a little less awkward, Jared forces himself to ask, “How are things with your parents now?” 

Jensen doesn't immediately respond and the panic sets in again. Jensen disentangles himself from Jared, but he comes right back after he's stripped his jacket off and laid it over the arm of the couch. He slumps low in his seat and rests his feet under the coffee table, lacing their fingers together again before he takes a deep breath and relaxes .

“You know I love my family, right? I mean, my whole life, we've been this really mild-mannered, chill group of people. Nobody raises their voices. Nobody flies off the handle. There's no chaos or tension. It's just a nice, calm atmosphere all the time.” He gives a sarcastic chuckle and leans his head back. “The last couple weeks, though? There's been swearing and crying and yelling, doors slamming and, I don't know. It almost feels like this is the first time we've ever really communicated with each other, ya know?”

“Is that a silver lining?” Jared asks, brow furrowing in confusion.

Jensen nods and laughs again. “It is. I know it sounds weird, but it doesn't feel like my world is collapsing anymore. It just feels like we're finding our way through it.”

“Whatever works, I guess.”

“Ya know how they say it's the people you love most that can also piss you off the most? I think that's absolutely true.”

“I thought it was the people you love the most can hurt you the most,” Jared says. 

Jensen pulls back with a knowing smile aimed right at Jared's gut. “Yeah, I guess that's true, too, huh?”

Up until a few days ago, Jared would have said, _yes, which is why you should never love someone that much_. Now he just looks at Jensen, so relaxed and peaceful here at his side, and he finally gets it. It's worth the risk. As much as the last month and a half has sucked, he would do it again. Even without the guarantee that he would get this, that it would work out in the end, he would do it all again. “They're also the people you keep coming back to, even when they piss you off and hurt you, I think.”

Jensen wrinkles his nose and says, “Now that just sounds like justification for shitty behavior.” 

“Yeah, I'm not sure it came out like I meant it.”

Laughing, Jensen leans in to press a soft kiss to the corner of Jared's mouth. It could go further. Jared wants to take it further, to stop talking and get to the part where they make up for all that lost time. But then Jensen starts telling Jared about all of the random things Mackenzie has been making him do over the last six weeks, how she's making him kickbox and throw pottery and kayak. He gets caught up in telling Jensen stories about his trip back home, about his father's drum circle and his mother's stomach-turning attempt at making sugarless sugar cookies. 

The sun is breaking outside the living room window when Jensen yawns hard enough to make his eyes water. Jared chuckles and considers the fact that he should be getting up to run right now. “I can't decide if I'm better off taking a shower and going into the office now, or if I should nap for a couple of hours first,” he admits.

With another yawn, Jensen says, “I vote sleep.”

Later today, Jared has to facilitate Danneel's reunion with her brother. Everything else can probably wait, so he stands from the couch and runs his hands over his thighs. “You comin' with me or headin' out?” 

Jensen's eyes are already closed when his hand shoots out toward Jared. “With you,” is all he says in response.

It's really all Jared needs to hear.

  


Though he only sleeps for three hours, Jared awakens more well-rested than he has in months. Jensen's back is pressed warm against his chest, only the tufts of his sleep-mangled hair sticking out of the covers. He does his best not to disturb him when he rolls out of bed; Jensen probably needs the sleep even more than Jared does.

By the time he finishes in the shower and heads toward the kitchen, Jensen is already up, staring blankly at the coffee pot. Jared smacks his ass and winks when Jensen startles. “Mornin', hot ass,” he greets.

Slowly, a dirty smile spreads over Jensen's lips. When he finally speaks, he says, “I'll make dinner tonight, for all three of us,” and Jared recognizes it for what it is: Jensen's acknowledgment of their deal from day one.

He'll be there to support Danneel through the aftermath of today, but he's expecting Jared to be a part of it now, too. It's probably a good idea. His mom was right when she said that he needs to know this part, the sympathetic compassion for dealing with the truth, as much as he needs to know the latest techniques for finding the truth in the first place. She said it was only going to make him better at his job, but Jared thinks it might just make him a better man, too.

  


  
**Three Months Later**  


  


This is the kind of day Jared would like to rewind and start over. It started out alright, waking up with Jensen, convincing Jensen to run with him before they showered together. Jared even made it into work a little early, but everything kind of went to hell from there.

Katie was in a terrible mood all morning. Genevieve wouldn't stop talking. Aldis called in sick. Jared's first client was already on-edge when he walked through the door; the meeting did not go very well. And then he discovered that the childhood friend another client was seeking died a few years ago. It was too close to home, brought up too many memories that Jared just didn't want to deal with, especially today.

By the time he parks his car in front of Jensen and Danneel's house, he's more than ready to call it a week. He loosens his tie as he steps onto the porch, shoulders already relaxing by the time Jensen throws the front door open and greets him with a bright smile.

“Honey, you're home!”

Jared laughs in spite of himself, shaking his head and wrapping one hand around Jensen's waist to take a much-needed kiss. “You were waiting in the window like a kitten, weren't you?”

“I prefer cat, at least,” Jensen corrects, one hand buried in the back of Jared's hair, fingers massaging his skull. “A big one, like a tiger,” he adds with a wink.

Rolling his eyes, Jared gives Jensen's hip a squeeze and then follows his lead through the living room and into the kitchen. There are no pots and pans bubbling on the stove, nothing in the oven. Jared didn't realize how much he was looking forward to a home-cooked meal until the realization that he won't get one sinks in his chest. 

“You want burgers or Thai?” Jensen asks, pulling two take-out menus from the drawer.

Jared sighs and stands. “Whatever you want. I'm gonna change.”

He leaves Jensen to order dinner, ambling back to the bedroom to grab a pair of jeans from his drawer in Jensen's dresser. Though they usually end up sleeping at Jared's house – it only seems fair, not subjecting Danneel's ears to the filthy things Jensen shouts very loudly during sex – they spend a lot of time hanging out at Jensen's place in the evening. It makes sense for Jared to have a few changes of clothes here, he figures.

“I went with pizza. Got a chicken and basil for you and a -,” Jensen is saying when he rounds the corner, stopping short to rake his eyes over Jared's bare chest. “Hey there,” he says with a low whistle.

Smiling in spite of himself, Jared tugs a t shirt over his head and watches as Jensen crosses to him. “Chicken and basil sounds good,” he says.

Jensen hooks a finger into the front of Jared's jeans, stepping in close. “What's wrong?”

“I'm fine,” Jared answers immediately, shaking his head with a chuckle when Jensen's brow furrows. “It was just a rough day.”

Jensen leads him toward the bed, falling back and pulling Jared with him until they tangle and tumble together into a heap in the middle of the mattress. “Forty-five minutes until the pizza gets here,” he whispers against Jared's throat.

If Jared thought he could get away with slipping a hand into the back of Jensen's pants right now, if they could just end this day the way they started it, Jared would be a little more into this. Jensen, it seems, spends his days dreaming up ways to make Jared talk. To be fair, it doesn't take as much coaxing these days.

“Had to tell a client that her best friend from elementary school died in a car accident a few years ago,” he says, swallowing back the lump of emotion in his throat. Jensen, to his credit, says nothing but continues to hold on until Jared is ready to talk. “It wasn't the same thing I went through, but it felt pretty damn close, ya know?”

“Did you tell her that?” 

Jared bristles and then releases a sigh. “I couldn't just let her sit there with it, thinking she was all alone.”

Jensen's hand is warm against Jared's chest, his smile full of encouraging approval. “You're an alright guy, Padalecki.”

Before Jared can respond, Danneel knocks on the door frame. “I'm headin' out,” she announces. “I'll be home early, so please keep your parts and pieces behind your bedroom door after eight.”

Twisting around to salute her, Jensen says, “Have fun.”

“Tell Mia I said 'hi,'” Jared adds. He was right when he said that Danneel was going to love being an aunt. She takes her four-year-old niece on weekly outings to the museum, the movies, and different art classes. He's pretty sure Danneel would adopt Mia and kick Jensen out if she had the chance.

When they're alone again, Jared turns his attention back to Jensen. He startles a bit when Jensen asks, “You wanna go to dinner at my parents' house tomorrow night?”

“That's your pillow talk?” Jared asks with an arched eyebrow. The last thing he wants to do is see Jensen's parents again. He's pretty sure they return the sentiment.

Jensen rolls his shoulders and flops onto his back, blinking toward the ceiling. “You guys can't avoid each other forever,” he says with a heavy sigh. “I mean, I'm going to to hang out with your parents this summer.”

“Are you trying to guilt me?” Jared asks with a laugh. 

“Maybe.”

“Mature.” Jared disentangles himself to mimic Jensen's pose. “Have you told them you're inviting me? Or are you springing this on them with no warning?”

“I told my mom I was bringing you. And I'll tell you exactly what I told her,” Jensen says, rolling onto his side and propping himself up onto his elbow. “You guys are both permanent fixtures in my life. You don't have to like each other, but you do have to accept that you're all going to be around for awhile. Don't make me choose or it's not going to go your way.”

“I'm not asking you to choose,” Jared defends himself. He may not be the biggest fan of Jensen's parents right now – they're certainly not huge fans of him, either – but he's not interested in starting anymore trouble than he's already made for them. “I may not be totally comfortable with them, but your relationship with them is your business.”

It must be the right answer. Jensen shifts, re-positions himself on top of Jared, and sucks a deep kiss against the hollow of his throat. “Thirty minutes and counting,” he finally whispers against Jared's skin.

Flipping them and pinning Jensen's arms over his head, Jared grins down at him and wiggles his eyebrows. He wedges a knee high between Jensen's spread thighs. “Guess I better make it quick then, huh?”

He barely gets a chance to press one slow kiss to Jensen's neck before Jensen pulls away and shakes his head. “How 'bout we wait?” Jared's face must reflect his disappointment because Jensen slips a hand under Jared's shirt and runs it along his skin as he adds, “I wanna take our time. Make it last.”

While Jared appreciates the sentiment, both literally and figuratively, he offers a counter of his own. “How about both?”

  


**Author's Note:**

> **Thanks to:**
> 
>  
> 
>  **clex_monkie89** : I knew when I submitted this story that it was not going to be easy to illustrate (should have stuck with the 'J2 Pro Wrestlers' fic, right?), but you totally stepped up to the plate and made me excited to be writing this story again. Thank you for being all-around awesome! 
> 
> **dugindeep** : You not only encouraged me to brush this idea off and work it into something usable, you gave me the confidence and the motivation to write like the wind and get the draft finished in time to submit. You don't let me quit, even when I want to, and I'm always grateful for it in the end. (Also to **bertee** , **zuben_eschamali** , and **ebcdic** for cheering me on during the fangirl weekend of win!)
> 
>  **feathertofly** : You're the first person who saw this mess of a draft and you were enthusiastic about it anyway. Your suggestions were amazing and your ability to see what even I didn't see made this story what it is. Also, the soundtrack still makes me cry. You're my hero. Always. ♥
> 
>  **fiercelynormal** : KAT! Thanks for the early beta and the general awesomeness and forever smiles. And the Lambert pictures. Terrible fashion is always inspiring. <3
> 
>  **wendy** and **thehighwaywoman** : I don't know how you do what you do, but I'm glad you do. Thank you!


End file.
